


Songs of Skyrim

by IrradiatedCutie



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Multi, POV character switches, this is long af, yknow like how they do in game of thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 29
Words: 66,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7773562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrradiatedCutie/pseuds/IrradiatedCutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life in the Imperial City was lack luster, mundane and filled with routine. At the age of 19, Gwenn Hawkford leaves her inn, her adoptive father and Cyrodiil in search of adventure in the country of Skyrim. In her travels, she meets Eela, a soldier in the Stormcloak rebellion along with Liliah and Nixie, two mages in the College of Winterhold. As the world begins to change around these young women, they find themselves in the midst of all the chaos, each playing a monumental role in their fate, the fate of each other and the fate of Skyrim.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been a thought in my head for years and I finally got the gall to write it. It's not perfect and forever changing but I hope you enjoy the journey my characters make.

# Gwenn

The Imperial City was just now waking up as the sun crept up the soft blue sky. Lazily, the city folk rose from their beds, dressed themselves and prepared for the day's events. Inside the All Saints Inn, a whirlwind in the form of a 19 year old Breton girl came tearing through, cleaning as she went. Floorboards squeaked under her nimble feet as quick hands rid the counter of dirty bowls, mugs, and scrubbed hard at mysterious stains. She swept away dust from the floors and set up for the morning meals. Humming a melody, she separated peas from their pods.

“Gwenn?” The young girl snapped her head up, her short chestnut locks flying around her face as sapphire eyes flicked around the room. Standing on the staircase was an older Nord man with long blonde hair pulled back from his face which held gray, tired eyes. She smiled at him and went back to sorting. He loudly sighed and crossed the room, standing behind the counter next to her. He picked up a rag and began to wipe down the counter in an effort to seem busy.

“What possessed you to get up so early?” He inquired, switching from cleaning to sorting coin earned the night before. She shrugged and back handed peas into a bowl.

“It's my last day here, I thought I might clean and the such, make it easier for you, Alron.” She finished her vegetable judgement and crossed over to the kitchen where she set the bowl on top of a wooden table filled with other such ingredients. When she returned to the counter Alron had disappeared, leaving the room silent. She let out a soft sigh before returning to her whistling as she picked up a mug and began cleaning it. Moments later Alron returned, concealing things behind his back as a large grin engulfed his face.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” He instructed, still smiling widely. Gwenn pouted before setting down her task and facing her palms skyward, eyes fluttering shut. Moments of shuffling filled still air before cool metals graced her palm. Eyes flashing open, her fingers curled around an Orcish bow and the hilt of a steel dagger. Gwenn’s jaw dropped and she looked to her elder who had a sad smile on his face.

“I can’t take these, Alron, they’re yours. I simply can’t acc-” Alron held up a hand and hushed her softly, wrapping her hands completely around the shining weapons.

“It’s a big world out there and Skyrim can be a harsh land. This is my last gift to you.” He put both of his hands on her cheeks and kissed her forehead. He lingered there for a moment before pulling back and smiling.

“Goodbye Gwenn, visit soon, okay?” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded in response, mouthing an “okay”. She tied the dagger at her hip and slung the bow over her shoulders before grabbing her small case by the door and stepping out into the early morning.

The sweet morning breeze slipped its fingers in between Gwenn’s chestnut locks. An excitement swelled in her chest as she dragged her case along the empty streets, her mutt by her side. A smile broke out onto her face as each foot step brought her closer and closer to the stables. For years as she grew, Alron told her stories of his homeland of Skyrim. Tales of brave knights, beautiful maidens, of stunning towns and lands, and of long lost treasures waiting to be found by the most ambitious adventurer. All those tales manifested inside of her head for years and she was finally headed to the land she saw every time she closed her eyes.

Pushing open the wooden gate, Gwenn made a beeline for the stables. Approaching the carriage, she found the driver asleep. She shook the carriage softly, the driver snorting before jolting awake and looking around. He spotted Gwenn and she smiled, asking how far north he was willing to take her. He told her he would go no farther than Riften. She handed him a sack of coin then climbed in back. She settled down as the carriage pulled into motion and the Imperial City began to slip out of view. Just before it disappeared over the horizon, she blew a kiss to the great stone walls.

 

# Nixie

 

Riften was warm and sunny like it always was. Midday was the busiest time for vendors and that day proved to be no exception. Dozens of people gathered around merchant booths, voices straining over the sound of others along with the hum of hammering steel. Among those dozens of potential customers were to elven girls, one Dunmer, one Bosmer, both dressed in matching mage robes. They stood leaning over the stone hedge, arms crossed and expressions bored. The Bosmer pulled out a book and began to read as her Dunmer friend continued to stare off into the distance, observing unaware customers.

“Say, Liliah, how about we head to the Bee and the Barb for a drink?” The Dunmer looked to her friend who was now leaning against the stone fence, deeply involved in her book. She stood and looked at her, tilting her head.

“Liliah?” No response came from the younger Bosmer as the Dunmer grew irritated. With quick movements, she snatched the book from her clutches and held it to her chest. Liliah screeched and reached for the book.

“Nixie! Give it back!” Liliah jumped on her toes as Nixie held the book above her head, out of her reach. A laugh erupted from her throat as she turned to run off only to collide with another girl, sending the two of them flying back onto the street. Liliah let out another screech as Nixie fell into her, both of them toppling to the ground. Nixie pulled herself to her feet, dusting the dirt off of her robes before helping Liliah to her feet. The other girl who had endured most of the pain from the collision had already regained her standing position She was dressed in dirty tavern robes, a cloak tied at her throat with a bow on her back and a trunk in her hands.

“Sorry about that, guess Liliah is clumsier than I thought.” Nixie grinned, throwing the blame on her friend. Liliah’s tanned cheeks turned a dark red as she socked her friend in the shoulder before finally ripping the book out of her hands and reclaiming her novel. Nixie rolled her eyes and set her hands on her hips, offering a bright grin to the stranger girl.

“Say, I haven’t seen you around here before. You a traveler?” She cocked an eyebrow as the girl held out a pale, slender hand.

“Gwenn Hawkford. I just came in from the Imperial City.” Nixie connected with Gwenn’s sapphire eyes and grasped her hand firmly, shaking it for a few moments before setting her hand on Liliah’s shoulder.

“I’m Nixie Alari from Rorikstead. This is Liliah Tallithe from here.” Liliah waved and brushed Nixie hand off of her shoulder. “So, what brings you to Skyrim?” She asked, waving her arm in a wide arc around her, addressing the world around her. Gwenn looked at her feet, shuffling them back and forth before shrugging her shoulders.

“I’m looking for adventure. I got tired of working at an Inn, decided I didn’t wanna be there for the rest of my life so I left.” Nixie laughed and ran a hand through her snow white hair before setting her hands on her hips.

“Understandable, sounds like a boring life.” Nixie chuckled again, shaking her head softly. Liliah spoke up for the first time, smiling softly before flapping a hand between her and Nixie.

“That’s why we joined the College of Winterhold.” Her voice was soft and sweet and Gwenn raised an eyebrow.

“College of Winterhold? Is that like the Mages Guild?” She asked, Nixie looking back at Liliah before back at the girl in front of her, confused as hell.

“By the Nine, what is that?” She inquired, starting to question the stability of the girl. Gwenn looked back and forth between her and Liliah, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Y’know, the Mages Guild. It’s where mages goes to study, they’ve got places in every city. Same with the Fighters Guild. You guys have those?” Nixie wrapped her arm around Gwenn and began to lead her in the direction of the Bee and the Barb.

“Come on kid, lemme give you a history lesson.”

By the time her and Liliah had left Gwenn to sleep at the Inn, it was dark and the stars had been shining for hours. As they walked for the lower levels to Liliah’s home, she stayed silent, the usually talkative Nixie was nowhere to be found. Her friend took note of this as they crept down wooden stairs that creaked with every step. They were almost to home when Liliah finally spoke up.

“What’s wrong?” She questioned, her hands fidgeting as she worried about her friend. Nixie just sighed, her shoulders slumping. She didn’t quiet know what was wrong to be honest but she felt downtrodden, discouraged. Suddenly it hit her as she reached for the doorknob.

“I don’t know. Gwenn’s innocence made me think about my own life and I don’t think I wanna stay at the College any more.” She admitted, rubbing a hand down her face. Liliah gasped and clutched her hand to her chest.

“But you’ve always wanted to be Arch Mage!” She shouted, her eyes wide with sadness as she sniffled, tears coming to her eyes.

“I don’t think I wanna spend the rest of my life in some dusty castle with snobby mages.Yet it’s not like someone’s gonna offer me fame and fortune on the street corner.” She rolled her eyes and sighed, opening the door and stepping into the quiet house, her heart still aching with sadness.


	2. Chapter 2

# Eela

The sun was setting over the great stone city of Windhelm, the snow falling in soft, fluffy clumps. Most of the citizens had retreated to the warmth of their homes or Candlehearth Hall as the wind began to pick up and blow ice against windows and walls with great force. A Nord girl struggled up the crumbling stone steps in front of the Palace of the Kings, her armor, that of the Stormcloak rebellion which she proudly served, was caked with blood and dirty. A heavy bag smacked against her thighs with every step she took, the ice gathered in her soft blonde hair and pounded her soft cheeks. Tired arms struggled to push open the steel doors to the Palace but once she entered, warmth rushed over her, melting the ice and snow gathered in her armor and hair. 

The Great Hall earned the name given to it, it reached nearly 50 feet into the sky as intricate arches bloomed over head. On the stone walls sat steel doors that lead into other fantastic rooms within the palace along with large blue banners with the gold bears head in representation for the Stormcloak rebellion. Across the Hall stood a large stone throne back lit by stained glass windows. Atop the throne sat none other than Ulfric Stormcloak himself, Jarl of Windhelm and leader of the Rebellion. He watched with diligent eyes as the girl crossed his Hall. As she neared the Throne, he stood and climbed down, meeting her on an equal level, a sign of respect he rarely gave. She threw herself down on one knee, bowing her head in respect as he towered over her. 

“My Lor--” 

“Rise.” He commanded, cutting her off. His voice was deep and smooth, a voice that caused her to shudder as she stood, a voice that caused her heart to beat a little harder. Straightening her back, they met eye to eye. His blue greys meeting her icey blues. He set a large, warm hand on her back and nudge her along to the room adjacent to the right of the throne. It was small, compared to the rest of the rooms in the Palace but it held significance. Any action the Rebellion took as a whole was decided there. Once inside, Ulfric closed the door behind them, shutting out any outside ears. Tables lined the walls, covered in scrolls, parchment, quills and ink. A center table held a map of the country, small flags marked Imperial and Stormcloak camps and cities. 

“What news do you bring me, Eela.” He inquired, crossing his arms over his chest. He sometimes struggled to remember the names of his common soldiers, now a days there were so many of them. Yet the girl in front of him was something special, he knew it from the day she stepped foot in his castle. She had been eager to take the Oath as quickly as she could, she had just lost her home, her parents, and hoped to find a new life within the army. He had been skeptical with her, positive she wouldn’t return from initiation with the Ice Wraiths but she returned quicker than any soldier he had sent out before. Eela smiled and slowly dug her hands into her bag, pulling out none other than the famed Jagged Crown. It was heavy in her palms, cool to the touch. Made out of ancient dragon scales, dragon teeth jutted out the top, on each side two came down to frame the wearers face. Ulfric cracked a smiled and laughed, taking it from her. 

“The old bear was right then. Guess I owe Galmar a drink.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he set aside the crown. Eela was stunned, she had never seen Ulfric laugh, let alone smile in the months she had been serving in his army. She felt gifted to see this, her heart fluttering at the sight of his joy. It didn’t last long though as his smile dropped back into the almost frown that seemed to be stuck to his face. 

“Tell me, what of Korvanjund?” He questioned leaning against the table pushed against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest once more. Eela did the same, leaning against the opposite table but leaning her palms against the worn wood. 

“When we got there, the Imperials were setting up shop but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t handle.” She admitted, beginning to pick the blood and dirt from under her nails. Ulfric sighed deeply, shaking his head. 

“Damn Imperials...well...I’m proud of you Eela. You’ve definitely proved yourself to be a great soldier.” A flicker of a smile crossed his lips as a soft pink crept up Eela’s cheeks. 

“Thank you, my Lord. I intend to one day be on your war council.” She admitted, smiling proudly as she stood up straight. He chuckled and patted her on the back. 

“Keep it up and you’ll be there in no time. Now, go get some rest. You’ll need it for what we’re planning.” He ushered her out of the room and closed the door behind her. She sighed deeply, finally feeling the length of her travels weigh down on her. The sun had been gone for awhile when she exited the Palace, the stars above blocked by the clouds which rained down ice and snow. Eela ran for Candlehearth Hall, her legs screaming at her to stop but the ice that pounded down on her told her to go. She found the Hall cheery with laughter and song, warm with fresh stew and fire. With a smile, she asked for a room for the night and a mug of Black Briar Mead.

# Gwenn

Markarth was different than any of the other cities within Skyrim in which Gwenn had visited. Riften had been filled with sun, mead and trading. Whiterun had been almost the same except with more steel and Nord culture. Falkreath was in the midsts of a great forest which reminded her of the places she practiced her archery as a child. Dawnstar was cold and snowy but some of the people were kind enough to show her a trick or two with mining. Solitude had reminded her so much of home in the Imperial City with its royalty and high class. 

Yet there, there in Markarth the air was heavy with the smoke from the mines and the people were harder than rocks they slashed away at. There was no welcoming hellos, no open trading, no kindly words. Instead Gwenn was greeted with cold shoulders and icy stares. She was weary of leaving the Inn, spending her three days visit locked in her room. The last day before her trip to Windhelm she finally found the courage to leave her tiny room and trek up to the alchemist shop. There she chatted with the young alchemist apprentice, trading secrets and tips along with potions and ingredients. She almost didn’t want to leave the shop, revling in the sights and smells which threw her back to the part of her childhood she spent assisting her mother at the alchemy table. When she did leave, the town was dark and nearly silent except for her echoing footsteps and the roaring waters. The Inn seemed so far now that it was dark and she was alone. Worry prickled at her back, the hairs on her body standing up straight as a sense of incoming doom began to fester inside. 

Gwenn turned down a poorly lit corridor near the Shrine and suddenly what little light there was disappeared as darkness loomed over her. Quick feet spun her around and brought her face to face with a large Orc man who pushed her deep into the corner, her shoulders smacking against rough brick. He smelled of sweat and mead, one of his large, ash covered hands covered her nose and mouth to stop her from crying out while the other roamed her body in a drunken attempt to disrobe her. The slight trepidation from earlier had burst into full out terror as tears streamed down her cheeks, pooling in the divots of the man’s fingers. Her arms fell to her sides as her sobs strengthened, her body beginning to go limp. She began to pray for death as the man ripped away the top of her dress. Her fingertips grazed her thigh, feeling a cool leather sheath strapped to her leg. Her brain lit up white hot as she remembered the dagger she had been carrying. Her fingers quickly worked to pull the steel from its sheath, her knuckles stark white as she gripped the handle with every ounce of strength she had. The man leaned over and began whispering incoherently in her left ear. Gwenn took a deep breath and plunged the dagger into his stomach. He let out a loud groan as she began to twist the blade inside his guts. He stumbled back, blood quickly overtaking the green of his shirt. He hit the opposite wall and slumped down, crimson pooling around him. Gwenn stalked over, letting out a soft giggle as she sent her blade into the side of his head before fleeing back to the Inn. 

She sat on the edge of her bed, as she stared at her trembling hands covered in blood that had began to dry to her pale skin. By morning the guards would find the dead man, she would be thrown in jail to rot away for the rest of her life in the hell of a city that was Markarth. Yet no matter how long these thoughts manifested inside her head, she couldn’t cry. 

Instead of horrible fear festering in her chest she felt a lightness fill inside of her. In her heart she had a giddy feeling, the kind she would get on her birthday. She had enjoyed killing that man, watching the life flow out of him in the form of the crimson. The satisfaction and joy she earned from scraping steel against bone and muscle was disturbing but something about her embraced it. She grinned and shook her head before beginning to laugh. At first it was a deep, throaty chuckle that resonated against her ribs but then it escalated to a loud, eccentric giggle that came from her lips as she threw her head back and her feet tapped against the floor in glee. She sprung forth from the bed, wiping her hands free of blood and throwing off her ruined dress. Rolling it into a ball, she stuffed it in the back corner under her bed to keep away from prying eyes. She slipped on her leather boots and tied her cloak at her throat, throwing the hood over her chestnut hair after donning a new,clean dress. She secured her bow and dagger before grabbing her case and leaving the Inn.

The sun was just peering over the horizon as Gwenn made it to the stables with a lightness in her heart. She convinced the carriage driver to take her to Windhelm despite it being two hours earlier than the start of his shift with a sack of coin and a pretty smile. 

And as the horse at the front of the carriage began to trot along the bumpy stone path, Gwenn watched as a guard burst through the front gate of the city, quickly ushering the two other guards inside. The body had been found, the chaos would soon set upon the city and Gwenn couldn’t be happier.

# Nixie

The day was perfect in Riften. The sky was blue, the sun was warm and the waterfront looked so clear you could almost see right through it. 

“Nixie, come on!” Called Liliah, who was beginning to grow impatient. Nixie let out a deep sigh as she turned from the edge of the water and stalked back to the stables and carriage where Liliah sat. 

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming.” She muttered under her breath as she reached the wooden carriage. She took one look back at the lake, watching the boats drift along, their sails lazily flapping in the wind as children splashed their feet against the waves. 

“Get it!” Liliah grabbed Nixie’s hand and pulled her towards the back of the carriage, attempting to pull her on board. 

“Fine fine! By the Nine you can be aggressive.” Nixie harped, climbing into the back and rubbing her should to free it of the pain of being dragged. The carriage pulled into movement, slowly slipping down the road and away from Riften. It pained Nixie to watch it drift away from her view. She should have been out there, with the sand between her toes and grass in her hair. Yet she was due back at the College for more training. It stung to see beautiful Riften drift away from view. If only it could be her home, if only.


	3. Chapter 3

# Eela

The day was clear but cold in Windhelm. No word had reached Eela yet of Ulfric’s plan’s for the Rebellion’s next move. She was free to do as she pleased which entailed a brief trip to the blacksmith to enhance her blade before she returned to Candlehearth Hall where she sat at the bar, a book in one hand and a flagon of Black Briar mead in the other. The doors burst open to the Inn and caught Eela’s attention. In walked a short Breton girl with fair skin and light brown hair cut an inch or so above her shoulders. Eela served a soft smile to the girl who waved back and approached, climbing atop the stool to her left and ordering a mug of tea. The bar keep slid a mug to her and she traded her 5 gold in exchange. Eela folded the edge of her page in half and closed her book before holding out her hand in front of the girl next to her.

“Hi, you new around here?” She asked, catching the girl off surprise. She turned and smiled, her face turning red. 

“Yeah...I’m Gwenn from Cyrodiil.” She grasped her hand, Eela shaking it hard, a smile cracking across her face. 

“I’m Eela. Or Ice Veins if you ask my fellow soldiers.” She retracted her hand and Gwenn grabbed her mug with both slender hands. 

“So, you’re a soldier?” She questioned, sipping her tea, her knuckles red from the previous handshake. Eela nodded, proud of her service in the Rebellion. 

“Been with the Stormcloaks for a while, working my way up the ranks.” She beamed with pride, her smile dazzling. Gwenn raised an eyebrow as she took another sip. 

“How’d ya join?” Gwenn posed another question and the pride that was shining within suddenly crumbled into dust and was replaced with heartache. Eela looked down at the dark mead in her steel mug and took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. 

“Two years ago some Imperial bastards got drunk and ended up setting fire to my family’s farm, killing my parents and everything I’d ever possessed. I trekked all the way up here and pledge my allegiance to Ulfric the same day.” Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks but she refused to let them come out. Silence filled the air for a few moments before she looked back up at Gwenn, smiling softly. 

“What about you, huh? Why’d you come to Skyrim?” She inquired, knocking back the last half of her drink and setting her mug back on the bar. The woman behind the counter walked over and filled it up before walking off again. Gwenn sighed and shrugged, running a hand through her short chestnut locks that caught the torch light and shined with flecks of blonde strands. 

“I grew up in Bravil, my parents died when I was 8 and I left for the Imperial City. A man by the name of Alron took me in and he would tell me great tales of Skyrim. Just about a month ago I left in search for adventure. I haven’t found a lot of it though.” Gwenn rested her elbow atop the bar, her cheek atop her palm. Eela grinned and smacked the other girls knee, causing her to jump in surprise. 

“Say, I’ve got a few days off. Why don’t you and I go explore the crypt near by?” Eela wanted blood on her sword and she had a suspicion that she wasn’t going to see battle for awhile. Gwenn’s eyes sparkled with joy, her hands reaching out and grabbing her own. 

“Really?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. Eela nodded and laced their fingers together, grinning.

# Gwenn

Eela and Gwenn returned just as night had fallen, nursing wounds and trading loot. They had dived head first into Silverdrift Lair, fighting past Draugr whose mere existence chilled Gwenn to her core. As they entered Windhelm, snow began to fall heavily, the wind blowing fiercely. The two girls traded hugs and handshakes before they parted ways. Gwenn left for the Gray Quarters, rubbing her knuckles, already feeling the bruises form. As she turned the corner, she happened upon a small Nord child and an older Dark Elf woman standing next to a slightly run down house. 

"Then it's true, what everyone is saying? That Aventus Aretino is doing the Black Sacrament? Trying to summon the Dark Brotherhood?" The young boy asked, raising an eyebrow. The woman sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"Oh, Grimvar... always with the nonsense. No, no, of course not. Those are just tales..." She told him, waving her hand in the air nonchalantly. 

"Fine. Then I'll invite him out to play. He lives right there. I'm going to knock on his door..." He told her stubbornly, going to reach for the door handle. 

"No, child! Wait! That boy, that house - they're cursed." The woman called, pulling him back from the door. 

"Ha! Then I'm right. I knew it. He's trying to have somebody killed!" The boy exclaimed, point up at his elder. 

"All right. I won't deny it, child. What you heard is true. But Aventus Aretino walks a dark path. His actions can lead only to ruin. Now. Enough. We will speak no more of this. I am the only friend you need." She sighed, leading him away from the house and out of Gwenn’s sight. 

Her eyes lingered for awhile, staring at the door knowing full well that she shouldn’t go into the house, the woman had said it was cursed. Yet something inside of her urged her to go inside, a faint whisper in the back of her mind told her to open the door. Tentative steps pulled her to the house, her hand delicately grabbing the cold, metal door knob. Her heart hammered in her chest as she twisted the handle and stepped inside. 

The door closed with a soft click behind her as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit house, her ears picking up on the sounds of mumbling. Slowly she made her way up creaking stairs and into an almost completely empty house. Cobwebs clung to rotting and dusty wooden furniture, the few items left in the house held little to no value. 

“Sweet mother...Sweet mother...Send your child unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear…” As she drew towards a doorway, she spotted a child, no older than ten, sending a dagger down into the wooden floor beneath him, as he sat crouched next to a full human skeleton surrounded by a heart, chunks of flesh, a closed book and a wilting flower. He stopped mid sentence, looking up at Gwenn and giving her a look filled with joy and hope. He dropped the dagger and shuffled to his feet. 

"It worked! I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament, over and over. With the body and the... the things. And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood." The boy said giddily, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. She stayed silent, glancing down at herself. Clad in a tavern clothes with a steel dagger at her hip, bag and bow on her back, she looked more like a poor farm girl than a deadly assassin. Perhaps that’s what convinced him and that’s why he looked at her like she was his everything. 

“You don't have to say anything. There's no need. You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract!” The young boys smile faded as he looked down at his feet before up at Gwenn again. “You see...My mother, she... she died. I... I'm all alone now. So they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften. Honorhall. The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind. But she's not kind. She's terrible. To all of us. So I ran away, and came home. And performed the Black Sacrament. Now you're here! And you can kill Grelod the Kind!" His happy smile came back as Gwenn looked down on him, a mix of feelings melding in her chest. 

“Listen…kid...are you sure about this?” She asked him, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I’ve never been so sure about anything in my entire life. Someone like Grelod doesn’t deserve to live one more day, she’s a monster.” The boy told her, a certain hate seeping into his eyes. Gwenn nodded and smiled softly, kneeling down to the boy’s level, setting her hands on his shoulder. 

“And so begins a contract...bound by fate.”

# Nixie

Despite casting a warming charm, Nixie couldn’t seem to keep herself from shivering. The giant castle of the College always seeming cold and empty no matter how many people occupied it. She stood with her fellow apprentices inside the Hall of Elements, 5 other want to be Mages standing around, showing off recently learned spells. Her hands rubbed together at a quick pace to hopefully warm her fingers which felt like icicles. 

Liliah had showed off her Steadfast Ward, her hands glowing bright yellow, almost white, as a large arc surrounded her in magnificent light. She was congratulated on quick learning, already at a very high apprentice level of Restoration magic, admitting that her next spell which was in training was Sun Fire. 

Both J’Zargo and Onmund placed lightning runes, which both exploded once Brelyna Mayron summoned her Frost Atronach. The whole ordeal left Nixie laughing, Tolfdir worriedly shouting and Liliah screaming. Once everything settled and the dust, or lightning and frost cleared, it was Nixie’s turn. 

A magic user since the beginning, Nixie was a natural in Destruction magic, having mastered the simple, flame, frostbite and spark spells at an early age. Once at the College she quickly picked up the apprentice spells of firebolt, ice spike, and lightning bolt as well as each of their runes. She had now advanced to the adept spells, practicing the fire spells first as she had a love for those. 

Nixie stepped forward in front of her fellow trainee’s. She took a deep breath and held her arms completely stretched out in front of her, her palms facing skyward. Standing with legs shoulder width apart, she closed her eyes and summoned all of her strength. Out of her gray palms burst fire in long, hot tendrils that wrapped around her body and spun, sending out licks of flame around her. Gasps erupted along with applause as her fellow mages watched her cast a successful flame cloak. She opened her eyes and grinned, looking at the stunned and awe stricken faces of the people around her through red and orange flame. Moments later the fire began to die out and left her finally warmed to her core. Tolfdir crossed over to her and clapped her on the back. 

“My my, all of you are so talented and growing so quickly. Yet just think of it, Nixie, at this rate, you could be Arch Mage in just two or three years.” He laughed and patted her again, smiling still. The grin that had spread across Nixie’s face suddenly vanished as his words resonated deep inside her head. 

“Three years?” She questioned, raising her eyebrows, a frown etching into her face. Tolfdir nodded and stroked his beard. 

“Why yes, three if you keep it up at this level. You still have much to master in adept magic and advanced takes a long time to learn, master even longer. But you could easily do it.” He turned to the rest of his trainees and smiled dismissing them. Nixie felt downtrodden and dissuaded. Three years? She thought, why she could take over the entire town of Winterhold quicker than that. She was the first to leave, heading back to her room where she fell into bed and fast asleep, tears dotting her pillow in soft blooming buds.


	4. Chapter 4

# Eela

The day was cold but clear, a rare sight in Windhelm. The wind blew hard and cold but the sky above was bright blue and free of snow filled clouds. Eela’s room inside Candlehearth Hall was small but warm, a dozen candles lit throughout the room as she huddled beneath wool and fur blankets. She had planned to spend the day sleeping and lazing about inside the comfort of her room but the world had a different idea. Just as she found herself dozing off a knock came to the door. With a deep sigh, Eela brushed long locks of blonde hair out of her face. 

“Come in.” She called, looking towards the wooden door which swung open and in stepped Elda Early-Dawn. She smiled, holding a letter in her wrinkled hands. 

“Eela, darling, there’s a letter here for you.” She set the sealed parchment onto her dresser before turning and walking out of the door, closing it behind her. Eela climbed out of bed, feeling the cold wooden floors beneath her feet. Picking up the letter she found the wax seal to be that of Ulfric’s, the wax still warm to the touch. She slowly pulled apart the paper, finding large cursive scrawled across the paper. 

 

_Eela,_  
_There’s been a group of stray Imperial soldiers wandering around the outskirts of town near Anga’s mill. They’re asking a lot of questions. If you could take care of them I would be in your debt._  
_Yours,_  
_Ulfric._

The signing made Eela’s heart flutter. Yours? That’s what her childhood crush had signed their letters. Shaking her head, she threw off her nightgown and donned her Stormcloak armor, wrapping a fur cloak at her shoulder, tying it off at her neck. She then placed her sword at her hip, braided her hair and laced up boots. It was windy as she made her way for the stables, the sun was shining and beating down on her shoulders but the harsh wind cut deep through her core. She found her honey colored mare munching on a barrel filled with apple slices. Running her fingers through her horses soft mane, she lifted up her hood before mounting her stead. She waved at the stable hand as she pulled onto the stone road and pulled her horse to a gallop as she made her way towards the mill. 

She found a group of 4 Imperial soldiers just outside of Anda’s Mill, all four of them looking rather worn down, tired and very cold. They all huddled together, shivering as they moved along the street. She pulled horse to a stop in front of the men, staring down at them with eyes void of emotion. 

“You men look to be freezing before my eyes.” She called, smirking as they all furrowed their eyebrows, growing angry. Three of them grumbled and began to move along but the oldest of them didn’t, his own smirk growing. 

“Why don’t you get down from that horse and let me show you how warm I can be.” He laughed, smacking his knee in hysterics as his fellow soldiers laughed as well. Eela stared at him with icy eyes, her expression growing darker. As they caught the stares of one another, memories fired to the forefront of her mind. Eela recognized the man as the drunken Imperial soldier who had burned down her farm and killed her parents.

She threw off her hood and jumped down from her horse. Three of the soldiers whistled and hooted as the other grinned and held his arms open. She stalked over to the man and he kept the smirk plastered on his face. She ripped her sword out of its sheath and within the blink of an eye, she slashed the man from neck to navel as he fell back with a scream into the snowy bank off the side of the road.

His three companions screamed at the sudden death of their leader, one of them drawing his mace and attempting to avenge his captain. Eela turned and caught the side of his spiked ball in her shoulder. She winced before retaliating by swinging her arm in an upward arc, slicing into the man's belly and sending him falling backwards. One of the two remaining men struggled to load his bow as Eela sent her blade into the side of his head and he crashed down onto the road like a tree. 

The last man looked at her with fear in his eyes and abandoned his weapons and began to run off into the distance. Eela sheathed her sword and picked up the bow from the last man she struck down. She loaded a steel arrow, aimed it towards the distance and let go. Within seconds the arrow found the man’s neck and he fell to the ground like his fellow soldiers. She wiped her sword on one of the soldier’s armor before sheathing it and climbing back onto her horse, riding back to Windhelm.

# Gwenn

It took a day’s travel to get to Riften, by the time she entered the city the sun was descending rapidly. She checked into the Bee and the Barb and asked the innkeeper if she’d seen any sign of Liliah or Nixie only to find out her elven friend’s had returned to the College. It was well past 9 by the time she made her way to Honorhall, the shops closed and maybe a handful of guards at their posts. 

It wasn’t hard to pick the lock to Honorhall and the first door to her left held the old woman, Grelod the Kind. She closed the door behind her and slipiped into the old hag’s room. There she slept, and even at night she had a scowl etched into her wrinkled skin. Gwenn felt a hate bubble in her chest as she coated her dagger with a thick poison she had recovered from Silverdrift Lair. She set the blade at the old crones neck and with a swift and heavy slice, warm blood spewed out, most of it pouring out onto the front of the old woman’s dress but some splattered onto the walls and even coated Gwenn’s hand. 

She felt a rush of joy and satisfaction as she watched the life drain from the evil crow. She lifted up a hand covered in the woman's blood and let it trickle out of her fingers and onto the floor. She grinned and dove her other hand into a pool of the warm crimson around the woman’s chest and let it become smothered in it. She giggled quietly and smeared it on the walls, flung it so it hit the ceiling and wiped it all onto the front of the dead woman’s dress. Afterwords, Gwenn cleaned her hands and snuck out of the orphanage, as if nothing happened. 

***

Gwenn sat under the newly blossoming Gildergreen in the middle of Whiterun. The sun was shining heavily as the warm air snaked it’s fingers into her hair with soft gusts while the smoke of the Skyforge melded with the scent of the bread being made inside of the Bannered Mare. Gwenn talked and giggled with the priestess Danica Pure-Spring that lovely afternoon, without a care in her world. Just as she thought things couldn’t get better, they took a dark turn. Danica pipped up, looking at her with sad eyes. 

“Say, did you hear about what happened down in Riften?” She asked, setting a bandaged hand on her cheek. Gwenn felt her heart leap into her throat as she shook her head softly, trying to remain calm. 

“No, I haven’t...What happened?” She questioned, knowing all too well what had aspired, as she looked away from Danica, peering down the stone steps and onto the trading happening below them. 

“Oh, it’s awful, the lead caretaker of the orphanage was killed a few days ago. Nasty sort of affairs.” She informed her, shaking her head sorrowfully. Gwenn sighed dramatically, setting a hand on her own pale cheek. 

“That’s terrible...hopefully the children aren’t too heart broken.” Danica nodded in agreement as Gwenn kept her eyes focused on the bartering happening. Just then a courier came running up to the both of them, rummaging through his bag. He pulled out a letter and handed it to Gwenn before jogging off. Gwenn excused herself from Danica, relaxing her shoulders and sighing. She leaned against the wooden arch above the steps down to the Plain District. Opening the letter, she felt her heart sink and her stomach turn over upon itself. A dark black handprint sat upon the parchment, the words “We Know” scrawled across the bottom. She clutched the note in her hands, before crushing it in her palms and throwing it into the water stream running down the side of the stairs. She watched as the babbling water drove the letter away, soaking it and fading and smudging the ink off of it. Gwenn set a hand on her chest, trying to even her breath, still horrified. Nixie had told her the symbol of the Black Hand, the highest group of the Dark Brotherhood. She clutched her eyes shut for a few moments before taking a deep breath and turning back around, a stunning smile on her face.

“Say, Danica, is there anything else I can help the Temple with?” 

***

Gwenn trotted down a hill, kicking up dust from the dirt road with her hound barking at her heels. She swayed a bit in her step as she hummed simple melodies with a basket of flowers Danica had asked her to collect for her. Soon, the sight of a broken down cart came into her view and stopped her in her tracks. She stared for a few moments before heading up to it to find one of it’s wheels broken nearly to pieces. She leaned down to inspect it when a Imperial man dressed in a Jester's costume came around the other side of the cart, yelling nonsense at her. 

“Arg! Bother and befuddle! Stuck here! Stuck! My mother, my poor mother. Unmoving. At rest, but too still!” The man yelled, waving his hands in the air around him, the tassels on his hat bouncing around his tanned face. Gwenn took a few steps back and tilted her head softly, staring at the curious man. 

“Do you have a problem, sir?” She asked politely, still mesmerized by this strange man. 

“Oh, Poor Cicero is stuck. Can’t you see? I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well not her, her corpse. She’s quiet dead.” He chuckled then continued, “I’m taking mother to a new home. A new crypt. But....agggh! Wagon wheel! Damndest wagon wheel! It broke! Don’t you see?” The man stomped his foot, kicking up a plume of dust around them as he got more and more agitated. Gwenn took a few more steps back before smiling at him. 

“Is there...any way I can help?” Gwenn asked him, straightening her head. The man broke into a goofy grin and began to clap his hands and dance. 

“Oh! Oh, yes! Yes, the kindly and beautiful stranger can certainly help!” Gwenn blushed softly and giggled, amused by the man’s dance. “Go to the farm, the Loreius farm. Just over there, off the road. Talk to Loreius. He has tools! He can help me! But he won’t! He refuses! Convince Loreius to fix my wheel! Do that, and poor Cicero will reward you. With coin! Gleamy, shiny coin!” Gwenn gave the man one last smile before nodding and turning on her heel to head to the farm just up the path ahead. 

A little while later Gwenn came traipsing down the path, dirt rising behind her with her dog still at her side as they made their way down to the road. It had taken some bargaining and some sweet words for her to convince the stubborn farmer to help the man but she had done it. She approached the eccentric man again, smiling softly at him. 

“I talked to Loreius for you. He’s agreed to fix your wagon wheel.” She told him with a soft smile. Surprise struck the man's face and he stammered as he spoke. 

“You...You did? He has?” He asked her, raising an eyebrow. Gwenn nodded at him, unable to contain her giggles. The man clapped his hands together once more and cried out in joy “Oh! Stranger! You have made Cicero very happy! So jubilant and ecstatic! But more! Even more! My mother thanks you! Here! Here! For your troubles! Shiny, clinky gold! A few coins for a kind deed! and thank you! Thank you again!” He grabbed a large sack of coin from the back of his cart and set it in her free hand. Gwenn was astonished at first before she nodded a thank you to him. Just as she went to leave, an idea popped into her mind. She turned back around to face the man and pulled a Nightshade flower out of her basket and handed it to him

“Here, for your mother. It was nice meeting you, stranger.” She told him as she waved goodbye and continued back on her path to Whiterun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how many character pov changes they'll be each chapter, just depends how long each character's pov is. Thank's for reading though! Stay tuned!


	5. Chapter 5

# Nixie

It was early, very early. The Hall of Attainment was quiet except for the sounds of Onmund snoring and soft rustling. Nixie was awake and packing her bags, her knapsack on her bed as she stuffed some clothes, books and her dagger inside. She scraped together what little coin she had in her room before realizing it wasn’t enough. She took off her heavy fur boots and slowly crept around the corner into Onmund’s room. He faced the opposite wall, snoring away with one leg hanging over the edge of his bed. On his table sat 4 shining soul gems ready for the taking. Nixie glanced around quickly before she took two in her hands, placing one in each pocket before picking up the other two and sneaking out of Onmund’s room and back to her own. 

She threw the gems into her bag before slipping around the corner into Brelyna Maryon’s room where she found the girl asleep with her pillow over her head. On her dresser sat a gold necklace and ring along with a sack of gold. She shoved the jewelry into her pockets before slowly picking up the sack, one hand on the bottom, the other on the top. She then quickly snuck back to her room, unloading the stolen items into her bag. She then grabbed her cloak and flung her knapsack over her shoulders before lacing up her fur boots again. On nimble feet she crossed the hall and pushed her way out into the courtyard. 

The sun wasn’t even peaking over the horizon, the sky still dark and filled with stars. She found her way down to the falling apart city below and spotted the carriage driver yawning as he headed to hook up his stead to the wooden carriage. Nixie pounced on him and offered him 30 gold to take her to Riften. He looked grumpy and she added in 20 more septums to which he graciously took and told her to get in back. He hooked up his stallion onto the wooden carriage as she climbed into it. She saw the sun slowly begin to rise as it pulled into motion and began to take her back to where she truly wanted to be.

# Eela

She found herself in the Palace of the Kings, dirty after a battle with the nearby Imperial settlement that had set up on the border between Winterhold and Windhelm. She stood inside the war council room waiting on Ulfric. She scratched at blood that had began to dry against her skin, caking more under her nails. Her hair was matted with blood and mud, her golden locks peeking out in small patches under the mess. Her armor was caked with the same mess, her boots which were a soft brown were now almost black. She stood waiting, blood flaking off her pale skin and falling to the wood below while snow and ice pounded against the window. Suddenly the door flew open and in walked Ulfric in his armor and heavy fur. She went to go kneel in front of him but before she could his hands reached out and grabbed her shoulder. 

“By Talos, Eela, you’re a mess.” He ran a thumb down her cheek which sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Galmar told me to come to you after battle.” She admitted, her cheeks burning underneath his touch. He sighed and turned on his heel before leaving her alone once more. He was gone for maybe a few minutes before he returned, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and ushering her along. She stayed silent as he took her deep into the Palace, deeper than she had ever gone into it. He pushed open the door to his personal water cabinet which was a large room with two in ground square tubs with frosted windows that filtered in soft light rays. 

“Clean up and then we’ll talk.” He smiled at her and patted her shoulder before turning on his heel once more and disappearing down the hall. She looked around the hall before walking into the water cabinet. She stripped off her armor, her sword clattering to the ground as she untied it from her hip. Once free of clothing, she stepped towards the steaming bath which smelled of lavender and mint. She tentatively stepped one foot in before sinking the rest of her body in quickly. After shaking her hair loose of it’s braid she picked up the rag sitting on the edge and began to scrub away the dirt and blood caked on her. It didn’t take long for all of the mess that was covering her body to meld into the water, leaving it brown with filth. She quickly got out of the tub, feeling the cold air nip at her body before she dove into the clean tub. She stayed there for awhile, the heat seeping into her skin as she hummed unknown melodies. Once she vacated the tub, she found a clean wool dress trimmed with fur that she donned before she set her dirty armor aside and retying her sword at her hip. 

She found Ulfric back in his war room looming over his map as he moved a red flag from the map and replaced it with a blue one. She knocked her knuckles softly on the door and he stood up and crossed over to her, closing the door. 

“Now that you’re clean, I’d like to tell you that you’ve been doing exceedingly well, especially in the past few weeks.” He crossed his arms over his chest, one hand occupying itself with stroking his beard. Red crept upon her cheeks again as she bowed at his compliment. 

“Thank you, my Lord. I intend only to be the best I can.” She stepped forward, her eyes roaming the table, noticing the colored flags were equal. When she looked up he was closer to her than before, she wondered how such a large man could be so quiet. 

“You’ve done just that. I’m more than impressed with who you are and what you’ve become.” He smiled ever so slightly, his hand cupping under her chin as she, like always, shivered under his touch. 

“Thank you, my Lord.” She managed to choke out, her heart beating so hard against her chest she was sure the Nine Divines could hear it. 

“Please, call me Ulfric.” His voice had somehow seemed to lower a few notches as he stared at her with half lidded eyes which were a soft blue gray. Suddenly, time seemed to slow as both of their eyes closed and their lips connected. Seconds passed as her hands settled on his chest and his other hand found its way to her waist. When they broke away, both their faces were flushed and they both broke into soft smiles. They both seemed to notice the orange light filtering through the windows as the wind suddenly kicked up and blew ice against the window.

# Gwenn

When Gwenn woke, she knew something was wrong. She didn’t hear the sounds of Mikael singing or playing his lute and she didn’t smell any of the new days meals being made. She slowly sat up, her head spinning. 

“Sleep well?” Gwenn's head snapped up and she stood on shaky legs to spot a woman, clad in red and black leather, sitting atop an old wooden bookshelf, one leg dangling over the side. Gwenn felt her heart pound against her chest as her eyes widened. 

“W-Where am I? Who...Who are you?” She stammered out, her hands clutching her chest.

“Now now...calm down, deary...you’re warm, dry...and very much alive. That’s more than can be said about poor Grelod. Hmm?” The woman responded, her leg swinging back and forth lazily. Gwenn gulped and broke into a nervous smile. 

“Y...You know about that?” She asked. The woman chuckled. 

“Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag get’s butchered in her own orphanage with her blood smeared over her own clothes, the floor, walls and ceiling. Things like that tend to get around.” She told her, keeping a calm demeanor. Gwenn chuckled herself, remembering how crazy she got in her little trip down to Riften. 

“Oh, but don’t misunderstand. I’m not criticizing. It was a good kill. The old crone had it coming and you saved a bunch of urchins to boot.” That note made Gwenn smile, it was a sweet smile but it shouldn’t have been, not with what the woman was complimenting her on. “But, there is a slight…problem.” The woman tacked on which made Gwenn’s smile disappear. 

“There’s always a problem…” Gwenn muttered to which the woman snickered before continuing. 

“You see...that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates.” Gwenn felt her heart beginning to pound against her rib cage again as fear began to seep into her once more. “Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill...you stole. A kill you must repay.” She told Gwenn, still swinging her leg softly in a habitual manner. Gwenn stood for a few moments in silence before she understood what was happening. 

“You want me to murder someone else. Who?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. Gwenn could see behind the woman's mask that she broke into a large grin. 

“Well now, funny you should ask. If you turn around, you’ll notice my guests. I’ve collected them from...well, that’s not really important. The here and now. That’s what really matters.” Gwenn turned around to find 3 people all with bags over their heads and rope binding their hands and feet as they sat kneeling on the floor. 

“You see, there’s a contract on one of them, and that person can’t leave this room alive. But...which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out. Make your choice. Make your kill. I’m just here to observe...and admire.” The woman told her, waving her hand towards the three would be victims. 

Gwenn took a few steps forward and pulled her bow off of her back and loaded it with a newly forged steel arrow. She looked at the three captives in front of her, aiming her arrow back and forth between all of them before her eyes settled on the one to the farthest left. She took aim at his throat before letting loose her arrow. It pierced through his jugular before ripping out of the other side of his neck and lodging itself into the wall behind him with a bit of his vein still attached to the tip. Blood poured out onto the floor for several moments before the man fell forward into the pool of crimson in front of him.

Gwenn then pulled her dagger from her hip, smiling at her tired reflection in the sharpened steel. She looked at her last two captives for a few moments before trotting over to the Khajiit to her right. She stood behind him and pulled back his head, setting her cold blade at his throat. She sat still for a few moments before pulling him onto the ground in one harsh movement, crawling on top of him and sending her dagger into his chest multiple times. Blood shot upward every time she pulled her dagger out of his chest and plunged it back in, red blossoms blooming over his nice duvet. He stopped squirming after the third blow yet Gwenn dealt at least 12 more.

Gwenn stood, wiping the blood from her face with the back of her hand before flinging the blade across the room. She grinned as she stalked over to the woman in the middle. Standing in front of her for a few moments as she caught her breath, Gwenn then flung herself onto the woman, wrapping her hands around her cold throat, coating it with the last victims blood as she slammed the woman's head into the wooden floor under her. As she put more and more pressure on the woman’s throat, she began to giggle the same eery and child like one that came from her throat that night in Markarth. It took a while for the woman to die but Gwenn didn’t give up. More and more she squeezed and slammed before again, the victim went limp under her. Her giggles slowly subsided as she stood, clothes, hands and face all smeared with blood. She turned to the woman who raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“Well, well. Aren’t we an overachiever and a crazy one at that. Three possibilities, three victims. Must have been one of them, right? So why take chances…” The woman told her, still as nonchalant as ever. 

“You told me to kill and I killed.” Gwenn explained, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Indeed. For you, my friend, seem to understand what’s truly important. When I give the order to spill blood, you follow, a bit too eagerly perhaps but you do. No questions. No remorse.” Gwenn nodded before looking around, her eyes spotting a door before looking back at the woman. 

“So...I’m free to go?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. The woman chuckled, grinning once more behind her mask. 

“Of course. And you’ve repaid your debt, in full. Here’s the key to the shack. But why stop here? I say we take our friendship to the next level.” The woman threw Gwenn a brass key before climbing down from atop her bookshelf. 

“I would like to officially extend to you an invitation to join my Family. The Dark Brotherhood. In the southwest reaches of Skyrim, in the Pine Forest, you’ll find the entrance to our Sanctuary. It’s just beneath the road, hidden from view. The password to the black door is “Silence, my brother.” Once inside, you’ll start your new life. I’ll see you at home…Sister…” Gwenn nodded, collecting her weapons strewn about the floor before unlocking the door. She took one more look at the woman before heading out of the shack.


	6. Chapter 6

# Nixie

Nixie had fallen asleep on the carriage ride to Riften, taking her out of the cold and lonely atmosphere of the College and back to sunny, warm and busy Riften. As the carriage came to halt, she was still fast asleep with her hood over her eyes as she snored loudly. The driver climbed down from his seat and walked over to the back, frowning. He shook the back in an attempt to wake the Dunmer girl asleep in his carriage. When that failed he ripped her hood off her head and yelled at her. 

“Oi! Get up!” He shouted angrily, Nixie jolting awake. He frowned at her as he tapped his foot impatiently. She sneered at him before grabbing her bag and hoping down. He smiled at her as she stalked back into the city. It was very warm, almost hot that day as the gentle breeze that often occupied the air was nowhere to be found. Nixie found the trading center to be empty except for the merchants and two potential customers wandering the booths. She headed directly to Madesi’s stand, the argonian man who sold and bought gems and jewels. He smiled at her with his scaly lips as she dove into her bag, pulling out the stolen ring and necklace from earlier that morning. She presented it to the Argonian man who took it from her slender gray hands and let it sparkle in the light. 

“My my, this is a very precious set. Where’d you find this?” He asked, looking at the poor mage with awe. She smirked and shrugged, dragging her fingertips over the worn wood of his stall. 

“Pulled it off a necromancer while I was on my back from Winterhold. Thought it could be worth something.” She lied straight through her teeth, smiling as she did so. He nodded, listening intently and believing her blatant lie.

“It’s worth a lot.” He told her as he unlocked his display box and set the sparkling gold ring and necklace side by side in it before locking it once more. He raised up a scaly finger to signal her to wait before diving below his cart. She heard the sound of a strong box being unlocked and the jingle of gold in his hands. He popped back up and handed her a sack of gold before smiling. 

“Pleasure doing business with you Nixie.” He nodded at her and she smiled back, shoving the gold in her bag and turning for the Bee and the Barb. Once there she paid for a room for the rest of the week as well as two sweet rolls and a mug of Black Briar. Without hesitation she took a large bite of her sweet roll as she made her way up the stairs and to her room. Cinnamon and honey burst in her mouth as she pushed through the door into her room. Setting down the mug of mead, she locked the door behind her before throwing herself down on the bed. She kicked off her shoes as she began to devour her sweet rolls without second thought. 

Once those were gone, she downed her mead and then dove into her bag, pulling out spells books and piling them atop one another. Looking at the 6 spell tomes on her bed, her heart began to burn with anger as she looked at the books. The College had done nothing but keep her downtrodden and feeling inadequate with her life and her magic skills. Climbing from her bed, she put her boots back on and grabbed her books, storming out of her room. She almost sprinted to the Pawned Prawn to sell her spell tomes. She burst into the general store, making the owner jump as she slammed down the books onto the counter, the items on it shaking softly. 

“Here, take these, I don’t want them. Just give me the gold!” She nearly shouted at him which caused the man to flinch as he looked through her selection of spell tomes. 

“I-I can give you 150 gold for all of them.” He stammered, hands fidgeting nervously as he collected together that much gold into a sack. She nodded at him in agreement at the price as he forked over the gold and she turned on her heel, jogging back to the Inn. When she calmed down, she felt a mix of relief and guilt wash over her as she was laying atop her bed and staring at the wooden ceiling above. She now had a decent amount of gold but no direction in life. The College was now no longer an option for her. She had sold her study materials, stolen from her fellow mages and left without reason. She prayed that something would come around and bring her fortune but the Gods seemed to be cruel to her. At least the Divines were. 

 

# Eela

 

Eela had began to visit the Palace of the Kings more and more often. She spent most of her days at the blacksmith, enhancing her armor and sword and once the sun began its descent in the sky she would find her way to the Palace and sneak her way into Ulfric’s large, grand room where they would have dinner together and eventually fall asleep, arm in arm. That night seemed to be no different than before as she snuck up the stairs of the Palace. She slowly pushed open the door to Ulfric’s grand room, feeling warmth from a burning fire hit her.

The room held a large bed with a black velvet canopy with two oak nightstands on each side. A large oak wardrobe sat against the right wall and on the left was a large fire place, two frosted windows on each side of it. In the left corner sat an oak table that held fresh, hot food with two places ready for the both of them. Heading for the table, she caught sight of herself in the vanity and smiled at her reflection. She wore a long velvet blue dress, trimmed with brown fur at the sleeves and bottom hem. Her hair which was normally kept together in a braid was now styled in long curls that ran down her back and spilled over her shoulders. Brushing back her bangs, she jumped as the door to the room swung open as Ulfric walked in. He looked around and smiled at her before gesturing to the table. 

Both of them took their seats and marveled over the beautiful meal before them. Venison coated in butter with garlic and rosemary was paired with potatoes slathered in the same mixture with green beans to the side covered in a red wine sauce along with soft dinner rolls sprinkled with poppy seeds. Neither of them hesitated to dig in, silence hung over them as their forks and knives scrapped at their plates and a fire crackled behind them. Eela was nearly done with her venison when Ulfric finally spoke up. 

“Galmar and I have been talking recently…” He trailed off, setting his silverware down and placing his palms flat against the wood. She looked up from her plate to find him frowning, his hands fidgeting with his napkin. 

“And?” She raised an eyebrow, her heart beating a little faster with anxiety festering. He sighed and connected eyes with her. 

“Galmar and I think you should become one of my war advisers.” He confessed, reaching across the and holding her hand. She gasped, looking at him with teary eyes and a large grin. 

“Really?” She stammered, a hand clutching her chest as her cheeks flooded with tears. He nodded and stood up, still holding her hand. She jumped up and flung her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. 

“Thank you, Ulfric! Thank you!” She shouted, sniffling as he wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin atop her head. 

“Anything for you, Eela.” 

 

# Gwenn

Falkreath was covered in fog as Gwenn’s carriage came to a halt at the front gate of the city. She climbed down from it, grabbing her bag and began to walk down the cobblestone path before straying off and into the forest. As she walked over snaking tree roots and rocks covered in moss, she recited over and over again the password to the door and when she finally found the entrance, she was blown away. Trees taller than she could have imagined pierced the sky with the ground curving up and giving away to a small carved out hill with a door nestled inside of it by a small pool surrounded by nightshades and deathbells. She took a deep breath and approached the door, an eerie, otherworldly voice festering inside her head. 

“What…is the music…of life?” Whispered the voice inside her mind, she stood up straight and with the most confident voice should could fester, she spoke. 

“Silence, my brother.” 

“Welcome...home…”

Inside she walked down a set of stone steps and was dumped out into a small open room with a bookshelf and table both covered with an assortment of things, doors budding off and leading into other rooms inside the Sanctuary. 

“Gwenn. At last! I hope you found this place alright.” A familiar voice spoke up and Gwenn turned around to see the woman from earlier walking towards her, arms open for a hug. Her cowl was down and revealed her delicate face framed with short blonde hair and piercing ice blue eyes that stared at her directly. She embraced the woman softly before she leaned up against the archway above a set of stairs leading into the rest of the sanctuary. 

“I did, thank you. So, what happens now?” She asked,clasping her hands together nervously and rocking back and forth on her heels. 

“Well, what happens now is you start your new life in the Dark Brotherhood. You’re part of the Family, after all.” Astrid told her, smiling softly that still held a slight sinister look. Gwenn’s eyes widened and she smiled herself, looking longingly. 

“Family...it’s been forever since I’ve had one of those…” She said in a slightly melancholy tone. 

“Yes, Family and this is our Sanctuary. You won’t find a safer place in all of Skyrim. So get comfortable.” She told her, waving a hand around her. 

“I’m honored to be part of your Family, Astrid.” Gwenn thanked her, bowing her head slightly. Astrid laughed and set her hand on her shoulder before wrapping her arm all the way around her and standing at her side. 

“Our Family, my dearest. Our Family. Together, united as one, the Dark Brotherhood can accomplish anything.” Astrid broke away and turned around to face her, setting both hands on her sloping shoulders. “But you must be anxious to get to work. I’m arranging a job, but I need a bit more time. For now, go see Nazir, he’s got several smaller contracts.” She told her, arching her arm through the doorway and into the rest of the sanctuary. Gwenn nodded and smiled, taking a few steps down the stairs. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Called Astrid, causing Gwenn to whip around. She watched Astrid as she disappeared into a room for a few moments before emerging with her arms full. Carrying a set of armor and boots, she led Gwenn into her room, letting her change and trotting off. The armor was soft red and black leather with belts and buckles and silver studs all over it. It was tight around her body, hugging her in all the right places like her thighs and stomach with the boots perfectly fitting her feet. She left the cowl and hood down, draping them around her neck. She grabbed her bag and stuffed her old clothes into it before heading out to meet everyone else. 

She found the family standing by the reflecting pool, joking and laughing as they talked of their recently completed contracts. Gwenn stood off to the side, her hands clutched together and placed against her chest as she lingered just outside of the circle. The jesting continued for a few moments before everyone dispersed, going their own separate ways into the sanctuary. A large Redguard man in Alik’r robes came trotting over to her, a large grin on his face with his arms wide open. 

"So, Astrid tells me you're our new Sister. I'm Nazir and you're Gwenn, right?" He raised an eyebrow, still grinning. Gwenn nodded and smiled softly. 

"I guess everyone has already heard of me then?" She asked tilting her head to the side. Nazir laughed, setting a hand on his chest as it rose erratically as he bellowed. 

"You butchered an old woman in her own orphanage and played with her blood, almost all of Tamriel knows what you've done." This remark made her turn bright red in the cheeks. She had to admit she went quiet mad in that orphanage, "But just because you're slightly crazy doesn't mean I have any intentions in investing myself in someone who may be dead tomorrow." His face turned stern as his arms crossed over his broad chest. Gwenn would have been upset at his remarks but she had to say she agreed. Back during her days at the Inn she wouldn't just hire someone because they once mopped the floor of their own house, no they needed to have experience and be reliable and that's exactly the reason as to why Nazir was weary of giving her a "real" contract. He handed over three sealed letters and wished her luck before wandering off into the sanctuary. 

***

A drunken beggar, an angry wife and a former mill worker was all just child's play to her. First she killed Narfi which was the easiest, she simply put poison in a cup of Black Briar and watched him gratefully down it before choking and falling dead just outside of his ruined house. She looted him of a few coins and a dagger she could sell before rolling his body to the river and watching the current carry him away.

Next was Ennodius Paplus who she shot an arrow right through the middle of his eyes as he sat at his fire, roasting mudcrab meat. He hit the ground with a thud and she once again looted his body before rolling him to the river and letting him be dragged away. This time she sat and ate what was going to be his final meal but was now her dinner for the evening. 

The final victim of her first set of contracts was Beitild who was the hardest out of all of them. She broke into the spiteful woman's house late at night and loomed over her bed, a grin slowly forming on her face. Just like she did with Grelod, she slit Beitild's throat and played with her warm and sticky blood but this time she got even more creative. She painted a message on the wall in the wenches blood that read "Blood is thick with iron and iron is worth more than silver." She then ransacked the house and took her leave.

***

Upon entering the sanctuary, Gwenn felt a change, as if something was off. The front room of the sanctuary where Astrid usually dwelled was void of any other beings but her. Then she heard yelling from deeper inside the sanctuary that drew her down the stairs.

“Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely punishment?” Raved a voice strange yet familiar to her. 

“Keep talking little man, and we’ll see who get’s punished.” Growled the voice of Arnbjorn. Turning the corner and walking out from under the archway, Gwenn found herself watching an argument between Arnbjorn, Astrid, Festus and a man in a jester costume. For a few moments she stared at the man, bewildered before she remembered him as Cicero, the man with a broken wagon wheel outside of the Loreius farm. 

“You and the Night Mother are of course welcome here, Cicero. And you will be afforded the respect deserving of your position as Keeper. Understood, husband?” Spoke Astrid, a smile on her lips but a certain distrust in her eyes. Gwenn furrowed her brows as she looked to her feet and the steps below them. He’s the same man from the farm, does that mean the Night Mother is the one he was transporting all along? Thought Gwenn as conversation continued without her knowledge. 

“Ah! Gwenn! There you are!” Gwenn snapped her head up to see Astrid walking towards her with a large smile on her face and her arms wide open. She wrapped her arm around her and led her back up the stairs to the first chamber. They stopped by the wooden table and Astrid slipped her arm away and wiped away her smile.

“We’ve got some business to discuss.” She said, setting one hand down on the worn and hole filled wood. 

“Do you have a contract for me?” Asked Gwenn softly, clutching her hands together like she always did. Astrid grinned wickedly and nodded.

“I do indeed. You must go to Markarth and speak with the apothecary’ assistant. You’ll find her--” Gwenn cut her off, her heart in her throat. The thought of Markarth brought back flashes of the night of her first murder. Waves of horror, disgust and fear washed over her and threatened to drown her. 

“The Hags Cure...her name is Muiri…” Gwenn muttered through dry lips, her tongue feeling like lead in her mouth. Astrid smiled and nodded. 

“Smart girl. Now, Muiri has been running her mouth, want’s an ex-lover killed. It’s rumored she’s performed the Black Sacrament. Go talk to her and get the job done.” Astrid set a sealed piece of parchment into her hands and turned to walk into her chambers but Gwenn spoke up again. 

“A-Anything else?” She stammered out. 

“Just do as the girl wishes, represent us well and get the job done. Since it’s your first contract, I’ll let you keep whatever Muiri pays. She’ll be generous, I’m sure. They always are.” She chuckled low and turned, disappearing down the hall. Gwenn looked at the letter in her hand and sighed before turning on her heel and heading back into the sanctuary. She reached the steps and noticed Cicero still standing around by the large crate that undoubtedly held the Night Mother's coffin. She lingered for a few minutes before walking over to him and softly calling his name. 

“Cicero?” She questioned as she let down her hood, her chestnut hair fleeing from it’s confinement. The Jester jumped and twirled around, his amber eyes filled with surprise. He then spotted Gwenn staring at him with a quizzical expression and he broke out into a goofy grin. 

“Why, Cicero never forgets a face! Oh no, and definitely not one as beautiful as yours! You’re the kindly stranger who helped Cicero get his wagon wheel fixed. Why, are you also a child of Sithis? What a pleasant surprise! It’s almost as if Sithis had us meet on that road for a reason!” Cicero clapped his hands and bobbed his head from side to side, his hat and his hair swaying and jingling with each movement.

“It’s nice to see you again, Cicero. I would welcome you to the Brotherhood but you’ve been here longer than I have, I’ve only been here for a week.” She smiled sweetly and brushed a bit of hair behind her ear. 

“Oh, so you’re a new sister? I should be welcoming you, uh...oh...um. Oh, bother and befuddle! Cicero must have forgotten the kindly strangers name.” He held out his palms and tilted his head to one side as he pouted comically. 

“My name is Gwenn.” She giggled and looked him up and down, finding him just delightful and outrageous in the best way possible. 

“Gwenn, Gwenn, Gwenn.” He chirped in a sing song voice, bobbing his head once more, “Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl!” He chimed which turned Gwenn’s cheeks warm and red. 

“Thank you Cicero, how nice of you to say.” She thanked him softly, trying to keep her eyes averted from his. 

“Say! How did Gwenn ever convince ol’ Loreius to fix Cicero’s wheel, hmm?” He questioned her, grinning madly. Gwenn looked up and smiled at him. 

“Oh, every man can be talked into doing what you want if you’re pretty enough and make promises you’ll never keep.” She admitted, her cheeks turning red again as she fiddled with a strap on one of her belts. 

“Oooh~ Gwenn is as pretty as she is slick! Cicero likes that about you, oh yes!” He grinned and clapped his hands together, jingling as he did so. She smiled and giggled, covering her mouth with a pale hand. 

“You are quiet the charmer, Cicero.” She told him which brought delight to the madman’s face. She then pouted softly at him, sighing. “I’d love to stay and talk to you longer but I have a contract to fulfil in...Markarth.” Just saying the city’s name made her stomach churn and her head feel dizzy. Cicero frowned and tilted his head, setting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Cicero wonders if Gwenn is okay, she looks paler all of the sudden. Her face went white when she said the name of that city.” He kept his amber eyes focused on hers. He noted how they shimmered like sapphires, even when filled with what looked like fear. 

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” She smiled at him and forced the dread rotting away in her stomach to be quelled for a few moments, “I’ll be back in no time, then you can tell me all about yourself, Keeper.” She patted his cheek and smiled once more before turning on her heel and stumbling out of the sanctuary.


	7. Chapter 7

# Liliah

The day was snowy and cold like always as Liliah laid in her bed, cuddling with the wool blankets. Her other apprentices were in the center of the Hall of Attainment, practicing their spells and charms, laughing at each other's failures and clapping at their victories. Liliah peaked over the top of her blankets at her fellow mages in training as Onmund cast a lightning rune, stepping on it directly after. The two others laughed loudly as he climbed back to his feet and socked J’Zargo in the shoulder. The Khajiit looked at Liliah and waved her over, calling at her from the center of the Hall. 

“Liliah! Come and show these milk drinks how to cast spells!” He laughed, clapping Onmund on the back which sent him stumbling a few steps forward. Liliah shook her head and called back. 

“N-No thank you!” She threw the blankets over her head and tried to muffle out their sneers but it didn’t work, elf ears always heard whispers. 

“Tsk, she’s just upset Nixie’s a dirty thief and left.” Brelyna Maryon snickered, anger lacing her voice. 

“If that Dunmer shows her face around here again, I’ll cut off her hands, show her what we do to thieves.” Onmund replied, sounding a lot angrier than Brelyna. Liliah threw off her blankets and climbed from her mattress, stalking over to the trio. 

“Nixie isn’t a thief!” She shouted, standing her ground as well as she could with her 5 foot stature. Brelyna laughed and shook her head, jabbing Liliah’s chest with her finger. 

“That little friend of yours stole my necklace and ring without second thought. She’s a no good, dirty thief.” She enunciated the last few words by driving her finger into Liliah’s chest each time she spoke. 

“Yeah she took my rare soul gems! I can’t believe you're defending that thieving overachiever.” Onmund scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“She always thought she was so much better than us but turns out she was just a lying stealer.” Mocked Brelyna as her and Onmund began to laugh. Liliah covered ear pointed hears with her hands and shook her head. 

“Shut up shut up SHUT UP!” She screamed at the top of her lungs, throwing her hands to her sides as large, white hot balls of light erupted from her hands and exploded against the ground in front of her. Her fellow mages gasped and backed away quickly as she opened her eyes to see she had successfully casted Sun Fire for the first time. The three then scattered and ran for the door, leaving her alone in the Hall of Attainment to cry.

# Eela

It was slowly beginning to snow as Eela made her way for Candlehearth Hall like she had done so many times before. The sun was just now thinking about setting as she pushed her way through the wooden doors. Upon entry, the few soft flakes on her clothes melted away and she made a beeline for her room. 

“Eela?” The Nord girl turned to find her friend Gwenn hunched at the bar, looking over her shoulder at her. Gwenn rose to meet her and Eela threw her arms around her, hugging her tightly. 

“Gwenn! It’s been so long!” She shouted in her ear, finally being pried off by the girl. Eela smiled at her, excited to see her friend again. 

“I was hoping you were home...I’ve missed you.” Gwenn admitted, her cheeks turning pink. Eela blushed as well before ushering her to her room inside the Inn, closing the door behind her. 

“Gosh, I’ve got so much to tell you!” She squealed, jumping atop her bed and sitting with legs crossed. Gwenn chuckled and joined her friend a top her fur blankets. Eela grabbed her friend’s hands and intertwined their fingers together.

# Gwenn

Hours later after the sun had disappeared Eela and Gwenn parted ways. Eela shared tales of recent, of her most recently and bloody battle, of how she had become Ulfric’s right hand man and even about their budding romance. Gwenn was wary to disclose her own escapades but did vaguely detail what she had been doing. They hugged and promised to write each other before Eela returned to her new residence in the Palace of the Kings. Gwenn then paid for her drinks and left Candlehearth as well. She found herself wandering the dark streets near the Stone Quarter, taking in the silence of the night when she saw her target walking her way. Nilsine carried a flower basket in her hand as she skulked by. Gwenn grabbed her wrist and twisted her around, pulling the woman to her chest, her hand flying to her mouth. Nilsine dropped her basket and her shaky hands flew to the arm wrapped around her neck. 

“Do you hear that? It’s your sister screaming the the Void.” Nilsine thrashed around and whimpered, tears dripping down her face. Gwenn drew out her dagger and plunged it deep into her heart, the thrashing beginning to die down until Nilsine fell perfectly still. Propping her up against the wall, Gwenn laid out the flowers around her before slipping out of the front gate and disappearing into the snowy night. 

***

Gwenn was ready to collapse right then and there in the soft dirt among the trees and sleep forever. The trip back to Markarth was tiring and the 1200 in gold couldn’t relive the emotion distress the city put her in. The Black Door was a wondrous sight and she couldn’t wait to get inside and sleep. Sadly for her, there would be no time to rest. Upon entry she found Astrid once more bent over the table with the map spread out upon it. She looked up and grinned widely, pride swelling in her eyes. 

“Ah, you’re back. So, how went your first real contract? A bit more exciting than what Nazir’s been offering, I’d wager.” Astrid chuckled and sat down in her throne behind the table, crossing one leg over the other. Gwenn faked a large smile, setting her hands on her hips. 

“I live only to serve.” She took a soft bow and chuckled herself, sitting atop the table and swinging her feet. Astrid chuckled back, shaking her head softly. 

“Oh, very good. Very good indeed. You, my dear, are going to fit in here quiet nicely.” She sat up and smiled, proud of the girl in front of her. The smile then faded from her face and she set both of her feet on the ground. 

“Now, I need your assistance with a matter of a more...personal nature.” Gwenn felt her heart sink as anxiety festered in her chest. She could tell the next thing to come was not going to be of any good. 

“Is something wrong?” Gwenn questioned, tilting her head to the side, her feet stopping their rhythmic swing. Astrid sighed and pursed her lips together, a frown forming on her fair features. 

“It’s Cicero. Even since he arrived, his behavior's been...Well, erratic would be an understatement. I do believe he is truly mad.” Astird shook her head and stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “But it’s worse than that. He’s taken to locking himself in the Night Mother’s chamber and taking. To someone. In hushed but frantic tones.” Astrid looked around, making sure no one was there to listen in on them. Gwenn could tell Astrid was paranoid beyond necessity but felt she had to obey. She nodded, listening intently to her as she raged on. 

“Who is he speaking with? What are they planning? I fear treachery.” She narrowed her eyes as her hands clutched the table. Gwenn felt herself shaking and a tremor rise under her tongue. 

“Astrid, you’re being a bit...paranoid.” Gwenn suddenly feared her disobedience would get her in trouble but no reprimand came. Astrid sighed and set her hand on her shoulder. 

“Maybe so, but healthy paranoia has saved this Sanctuary before and my gut is telling me that demented little fool is up to something.” She hissed, squeezing her shoulder, her nails digging into Gwenn’s flesh. She flinched but didn’t say anything about the pain and instead went along with her ravings. 

“What do you want me to do?”


	8. Chapter 8

# Nixie

Like always, Riften was clear and sunny and positively perfect. Nixie loomed over the stone wall near the trading center which was booming with people forking over gold for high end armor, swords and jewelry. Nixie picked at the loose threads on the cusp of her sleeve as the wind danced her white locks around her face. Sliding her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, inhaling the cities smells of hot iron, bloody meat and fresh bread. As she opened her eyes she watched a tall man in royal clothing approach her. She bit her lip and rose an eyebrow at him as he leaned against the same wall as her. 

“Running a little light in the pockets, lass?” His voice was somewhere in the baritone range, thick with an accent that made her heart go soft. Despite that she scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Nixie raised her eyebrows at him, insulted by his inquiry. He chuckled and waved a hand at her. 

“You’re pockets...they’re a little low on coin, I can tell.” He stood up straight and set his hands on his hips. She stood up straight as well, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“And how could you possibly know that?” She scoffed again, jutting one hip out. Again, he chuckled this time shaking his head as well. 

“It’s all about sizing up your mark, lass. How they walk, what they’re wearing, it’s a dead give away. I mean look at you, ragged robes, slouching about the wealthy, hoping to snag something from a passerby’s pocket.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as he caught onto why she was watching all of the people roam by the merchants. She frowned and jabbed a finger into his chest. 

“My wealth and my activities are none of your business, sir.” She spat at him, red eyes going hard with annoyance. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping his grin wide. 

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you’d like a taste?” He inquired, raising an eyebrow as he stood in front of her again, clasping his hands together. She looked around, sighing and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Alright, what do you have in mind?” He grinned again, that seeming to be his favourite expression. 

“I’ve got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands and in my line of work, extra hands are well paid.” He rubbed two of his fingers and thumb together, signalling great wealth to come. She looked at his hands then to him again before smiling. 

“What do I have to do?” He laughed and clapped his hand on her shoulder, beginning to explain his scheme. 

“Simple...I’m going to cause a distraction and you’re going to steal Madesi’s silver ring from a strongbox under his stand. Once you have it, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei’s pocket without him noticing.” He raised an eyebrow and she nodded softly before raising her own eyebrow. 

“There’s someone that wants to see him put out of business permanently. That’s all you need to know.” She sighed and shrugged before nodding. 

“Fine, I guess I’m ready.” 

“Perfect.” He crossed over to a stand and stood upon a crate, holding a healing potion in hand and began to call over the crowd who reluctantly listened to him. Nixie slipped along the walls standing behind Madesi’s stand before crouching down and picking open the cabinet. Sliding it open, she unlocked the strongbox and she grabbed the three rings, the 70 gold and the flawless sapphire, pocketing them for herself. Standing up straight she joined the crowd, standing close to Brand-Shei who scoffed at the man’s proposal. She slowly slipped the plain ring into his pocket before pushing her way through the crowd and walking to the vegetable stand near by. The man shook his head and apologized to the crowd who then all returned to their stands. Moments later he came around, setting a hand on her shoulder. 

“Looks like I chose the right person for the job,” He chuckled as she spun around to meet him, a smirk on her face. “And here ya go, you’re payment, just as promised.” He handed her a large sack filled with 100 gold which she then stuffed in her pockets. 

“The way things have been going around here, it’s a relief that our plan went off without a hitch.” He sighed and ran a hand through his red locks before scratching at his beard. She raised an eyebrow as she shook her pockets, listening to the clink of gold smacking together. 

“What’s been goin’ on?” She inquired, he flapped a hand in the air and sighed again. 

“Bah, my organization’s been having a run of bad luck but I suppose that’s just how it goes. But nevermind that, you did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more where that came from…if you think you can handle it.” He grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. She set her hands on her hips, jutting one forward. 

“I can handle it!” She told him confidently, he laughed, slapping her on the shoulder once more. 

“All right, then. Let’s put that to the test since you’re so eager.” He handed her a slip of paper sealed with a wax sigil of a diamond with a circle in the middle. “The group I represent has it’s home in the Ratway beneath Riften…a tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in once piece and we’ll see if you’ve really got what it takes.” He winked at her and began to walk off. She looked down at the paper before calling after him. 

“Wait! My name is Nixie!” She called, a hand reaching out towards him as the other clutched the letter to her chest. He turned and smiled at her, waving a hand back at her. 

“Brynjolf.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the alley.

# Gwenn

The Night Mother’s room was an open space where her coffin sat on a raised platform surrounded by candles and flowers, backlit by the stained glass window of Sithis. The lock on the coffin was surprisingly easy to pick and Gwenn quickly enclosed herself in the darkness of the tomb. She hated being inside the crypt with a sacred corpse, she felt as if she was doing something wrong hiding in the coffin, but she did so anyway, and she waited. 

Soon, she heard Cicero approach. After moments of humming, it went silent, then Cicero began to talk in hushed whispers. 

“Are we alone? Yes...yes...alone. Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan. The other’s...I’ve spoken to them. And they’re coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex...perhaps even the Argonian, and the un-child. What about you? Have you...have you spoken to anyone? No...No, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and saying! And what do you do? Nothing! Not...not that I’m angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero always understands! And obey’s. You will talk when you’re ready, won’t you? Won’t you...sweet Night Mother...” The more Cicero rambled, the more Gwenn began to feel a pit of anxiety open in her chest. 

Suddenly, an unearthly voice festered in her head, her breath catching in her throat as the decrypted features of the corpse she shared the coffin with began to light up dimly. 

“Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener.” Gwenn’s eyes widened, she knew what the voice meant and the pit of anxiety festering in her chest exploded into full blown dread. 

“Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!” Cicero was beginning to get frustrated again and Gwenn felt herself begin to shake as her stomach flipped over upon itself, her hands clasping over her mouth as she tried not to throw up. 

“Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one. Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task- Journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre.” In the distance Gwenn could hear the hammer Arbjorn used and the water behind her falling into the reflecting pool. She tried to focus on anything but the situation in front of her but nothing worked to quell her anxiety. 

“Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother. I’ve tried, so very hard. But I just can’t find the Listener!” 

“Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he’s has been waiting for all these years: “Darkness rises when silence dies” 

The voice left Gwenn’s head, the last phrase an echo in her mind. Suddenly the iron tomb burst open and Gwenn fell out onto the floor in front of Cicero. Both of their eyes widened as Gwenn’s breathing went ragged as Cicero began to scream at her, rage emitting from him like fire. 

“What? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser and defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin! Explain yourself! Speak, worm!” Gwenn stammered as Cicero towered over her, shaking in anger.

“T..The Night Mother spoke to m...me. She said “I’m the one”” Gwenn’s entire body shook as tears flooded her cheeks and the meal she had before threatening to come up her throat violently. 

“She...spoke to you? More treachery! More trickery and deceit! You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener! And....there is...no...Listener!” Cicero drew his dagger and went to strike her but stopped as Gwenn screamed. 

“Wait! Please don’t! She said to tell you: Darkness rises when s...silence dies!” She flinched, waiting for the impact of cold steel and pain to hit her but no such feeling came. She opened her eyes and saw Cicero with jaw hung slack, as understanding hit him and the rage subsided. 

“She...she said that? She said those words? To you? Darkness rises when silence dies? But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother’s only way of talking to sweet Cicero...” Gwenn nodded, her body still shaking, tears staining her shirt. Cicero collapsed to his knees then his face burst into a wide grin. He jumped to his feet and pulled her to him, embracing her in the tightest hug she had ever experienced. 

“Then...it is true! She’s back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ah ha ha! All Hail the Listener!” He broke away and took her hands in his and began to dance, swinging her around with him as he laughed at the top of his lungs. 

“Gwenn is the Listener! All Hail!” 

***

Gwenn had never felt so alone in her life. She felt as if her new family hated her. Astrid was furious, proclaiming that she was the one true leader of the Brotherhood and an ancient corpse wasn’t going to change anything. Perhaps no one truly hated her but she didn’t have the courage to leave her room. It had been three days and she’d lived off the stash of bread, cheese and potatoes she kept around. She read the dozens of books piled on her shelves and slept on and off, staring at the ivy clingy to the walls in between naps. On the third afternoon a knock came to the door, causing Gwenn to jump, her heart pounding. She froze in place, her voice unable to yell at the person to go away. After a few moments of silence in walked none other than Cicero, a grin on his face. She sighed and slumped down, crawling back into the corner against her wall and bed post. Cicero tilted his head and frowned, wandering over and sitting on the edge of the bed. He set his hand on top of Gwenn’s knee and rubbed back and forth with his thumb. 

“What’s wrong, Listener?” He questioned, keeping his head still tilted. She snapped her head up, eyes glaring at the jester harshly. 

“Don’t call me that!” She spat at him, jerking her leg away from his touch. He let out a soft gasp and held his hand to his heart, his eyes flashing with sadness. Gwenn softened, pulling her legs away from her chest and sighing. 

“I’m sorry Cicero, I just...I’m not used to this...any of it.” She rubbed her hands down her face and sniffled, keeping her head in her hands. “I feel like a stranger in my home, like my family hates me.” Cicero set a tentative hand on her shoulder, his frown deepening. 

“I understand, Listn- Gwenn. Cicero doesn’t hate you. Neither does the Redguard or Festus Krux or the Unchild. Even that harlot Astrid has calmed down.” She looked up at him, sapphire eyes rimmed red as tears slid down her cheeks. 

“Really?” She stuttered out, running a hand under her nose. He nodded and his goofy smile returned, moving his hand from her shoulder to her cheek once again rubbing his thumb back and forth. She smiled and let out a soft giggle, her hand resting on top of his. “Thank you, Cicero. I can always count on you.” He grinned and shot up from the bed, taking an over exaggerated bow. 

“Of course! Cicero lives to serve!” He chimed, standing up straight and saluting her. Gwenn couldn’t stop from laughing, clutching her stomach as tears pricked at the sides of her eyes. Cicero’s smile grew wider as he jumped upon the bed and began to tickle her, looming over her as his fingers danced up and down her sides. Gwenn fell onto her back, rolling from side to side as she howled with laughter, Cicero himself laughing. Her hand flailed skyward, knocking his jester hat from atop his head, letting his ginger locks free. Both of them stopped, out of breath and grinning. The both seemed to notice at the very same time how close their faces were together. Cicero seemed slowly began to close the gap just as Gwenn began to slip out from under him. His face turned red and he sat up quickly as she retrieved his hat from the floor. 

“Here, sorry ‘bout that.” He nodded and set it back atop his head, smiling at her. 

“Oh, no need to apologize! The List--Gwenn was just having fun!” He told her, setting a hand upon her shoulder once more. 

“Thank you, Cicero, I really need that pick me up.” 

***

A week had passed since Gwenn’s discovery and the entire Family seemed to had forgotten, she was back doing regular contracts with Nazir, the last of which had her slaughtering a vampire which proved to be the scariest and toughest contract she had to date. She sat in the dining hall, laughing with Nazir and Babette, joking of previous contracts and encounters. Moments later Astrid stormed in, looking around before smiling and pointing at Gwenn before making a “come hither” motion. Gwenn nodded and stood, following after her into the front of the sanctuary. She sat down in her throne, crossing one leg over top the other. 

“What is it, Astrid?” Gwenn asked, twiddling her thumbs together. Astrid sighed, running a hand through her hair. 

“Look, something is happening here. I’m not sure entirely what that something is, but...well, we need to find out.” She sat up, resting her elbows atop her knees, “If the Night Mother really did give you an order to talk to a contact, we’d be mad to ignore it.” Gwenn nodded in agreement, pulling her hands to her sides. 

“And I think we both agree that Cicero has brought enough madness into this sanctuary.” She chuckled and grinned, shaking her head from side to side. Gwenn faked a smile as well, the hands at her sides turning into fists. 

“So go. Go to Volunruud. It’s a crypt, pretty far to the northeast. Talk to this Amaund Motierre. And let’s see where this leads, hmm?” Astrid patted her shoulder then walked back into the sanctuary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a lot of Gwenn's chapters are rlly long but they come from an already existing fic I've written so yeah


	9. Chapter 9

# Nixie

The Ratway was filled with vagrants who gave Nixie a good beating. The first two bandits shot arrows and swung maces at her, the mace catching her in the back of the head and an arrow lodging itself in her shoulder. The bandits fell to her flame cloak and fireballs, leaving them as burnt, charred bodies. The flagrants within the twisting halls were also claimed by her destruction magic. Eventually she found the Ragged Flagon, a bar surrounded by murky water and filled with tenants, decked out in the same leather armor covered in belts. The man she had met earlier, Brynjolf stood at the bar which the keeper behind it cleaning mugs while lecturing Brynjolf. 

“Listen, I’m telling you, she’s different.” The redheaded man argued, setting his hands on the worn, stained wood. The bar keep laughed, shaking his head. 

“Face it, Bryn. You, Vex, you guys are part of a dying breed. She’s not gonna show up, she was probably killed and we’ll find her in a week.” He shook his head again, scoffing at his friend. Nixie stood behind the group and cleared her throat loudly, Brynjolf whipped around and smiled wide walking over towards her. 

“Well, color me impressed lass. I wasn’t certain I’d ever see you again.” He chuckled, the barkeep behind him going bright red in the face. 

“Getting here was easy.” Nixie admitted, setting her hands on her hips, grinning madly. 

“Reliable and headstrong? Your turning out to be quiet the prize!” He crossed his arms over his chest, matching her wild grin. 

“So...now that I’ve whetted your appetite with our little scheme at the market, how about handling a few dead beats for me?” He inquired, waving one hand in her direction. 

“Dead beats? What they’d do?” She answered with a question, raising an eyebrow. Brynjolf frowned, rubbing his hands together before leaning against the bar. 

“They owe our organization some serious coin and they decided not to pay. I want you to explain to them the error of their ways.” He smirked, something glinting in his eyes as he finished. Nixie nodded, fidgeting with her fingers. 

“Alright, who are they?” She questioned, giving a quick glance around the flagon before connecting eyes back with him. 

“Keerava, Bersi Honey-Hand and Haelga. Do this right and I can promise you a permanent place in our organization.” He waved an arm in a large arc around him, motioning to the building around him. 

“How should I handle this?” She raised an eyebrow, sticking her hands deep into her pockets. 

“Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that you get the message across that we aren’t to be ignored.” He told her before holding up a hand as she began to walk away, “A word of warning though, I don’t want any of them killed. Bad for business.” She nodded and he waved her off as she retreated from the Flagon and headed back to the surface world. 

Intimidation was her forte. She may have been skinny but her force was loud and her naturally blood red eyes shot fear into those she threatened. Keerava forked over her gold after Nixie threatened to kill those she loved in a far off land on a small farm. Bersi handed his over after she destroyed his priceless Dwemer vase and Haelga paid up after she tried to met her precious statue of Dibella. Brynjolf was impressed by her quick return and gave her a decent cut of money before leading her into the Cistern where she met the cruel faced leader of the Guild, Mercer Frey. He introduced her to the organization of fellow thieves and then he gave her an important task.

# Eela

Whiterun was sunny and filled with activity like always. It was a trading center for the country as it stood in the geological middle of it. Eela walked through the city in her clean Stormcloak armor, sword at her hip, battleaxe on the other. People either waved at her or gave her the cold soldier as she made her way to the great castle of Dragonsreach which stood tall above the entire city. As she passed by the blooming Gildergreen, an older man stood in front of a statue of Talos as he raved about the Almighty. Eela smiled at him then began to climb the many sets of stairs up to Dragonsreach. Bursting through the doors, everyone in the hall seemed to pay no mind to her until she came upon Jarl Balgruuf and his two advisers standing near his throne. He smiled at her as she bent down on one knee. 

“Speak, my child.” He sounded happy, upbeat and Eela hoped that played into her favor. She bowed her head and slowly unsheathed the battle axe Ulfric had given her. She held it out in front of her with her palms facing skyward. 

“I’m Eela, I serve as War Adviser to Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak. He has asked me to give this message to you.” She looked up at him and Balgruuf’s smile had fallen into a frown as he took the battle axe from her hands. 

“Did he now? The man is persistent, I’ll give him that.” He sighed deeply, sitting up in his throne, battle axe clutched between his large, worn hands. “I guess it’s time I give him an answer.” The next few minutes was filled with loud arguing between Proventus and Irileth on the pros and cons of siding with Ulfric all while Eela remained kneeled before the three. They quarreled over the certain death of troops if they refuse Ulfric and the possible death of Balgruuf himself if he turned his back. They spoke in ill will of Ulfric which caused fury to bubble inside Eela’s chest the more and more they bickered and spat. 

“Enough! This isn’t about gold.” Balgruuf slammed his hands against the armrests of his throne. His Dunmer adviser crossed her arms, her expression just as hard as the Jarl’s. 

“It’s time to decide!” Shouted Irileth, her hands placed firmly on her hips. Proventus stuttered, his eyebrows furrowed in fear. 

“B-But wait! Let’s see if Ulfric is serious!” Argued Proventus, his hands fidgeting together. Balgruuf’s expression turned dark and cold. 

“Oh, he’s serious. But so am I.” He turned to looked at Eela who still had her head bowed, the blank expression on her face had turned to that of fury. “So...about this axe.” Eela looked up as Jarl Balgruuf the Greater stood, the axe clutched in his left hand. 

“You can return this axe to our friend, the esteemed Jarl of Windhelm as my answer. Make sure he gets it.” He threw the axe down in front of her, the clatter echoing through the hall. “Proventus, bring me my quill. And the good parchment.” He looked down at Eela with darkness in her eyes as he turned and began to retreat to his living quarters. 

“Jarl Balgruuf.” She called as she stood onto her feet, clutching the battle axe in her hand so tight her knuckles had turned ghostly white. He turned to face her, anger still hardened on his face. She looked at him with cold eyes that sent nothing but unadulterated hate. “I’ll see you again...soon…” She then turned on her heel and silently left without another word. 

***

The Palace of the Kings turned cold as Eela stepped inside, her normally calm and kind demeanor having disappeared from sight and was replaced with fuming anger as she stalked into the War Room. She threw open the door, the steel slamming loudly against the stone walls. Galmar and Ulfric’s heads shot up as she threw the battle axe onto the stone floor. 

“The Jarl of Whiterun returns your axe.” Her voice could have frozen fire it was void of so much emotion. Ulfric sighed, running his hands down his face as Galmar picked up the axe from the ground and handing it over to him.

“Then I was wrong about him.” Ulfric sighed deeply again as he set his battle axe on his hip. He looked at the large, bearded man to his left. “Galmar, you were right again.” He loomed over his battle map, tired eyes glancing at his holds and cities. 

“Say the word and Whiterun is yours.” The old bear grinned, cracking his knuckles together. Ulfric shook his head, standing up straight and crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Whiterun is only a means to an end.” He reasoned, large hands fidgeting together. 

“We are ready whenever you are, Ulfric.” Galmar’s face hardened, accentuating old scars on his tired face. Ulfric shook his head, face going sad and unsure. 

“Is any man ready to give the order that will mean the death of many.” Ulfric questioned, looking at his ages old friend with uncertainty in his face. 

“No. But neither is every man able to give that order when he must. But you are that man, Ulfric. You’ve been that man before and you’ll be him again.” Galmar began to rave, going on a motivational rant that rose even Eela’s spirit. “These men and women, they call themselves Stormcloaks because they believe in you! They’re the meanest, toughest sons of bitches Skyrim has to offer! They want this. Just look at our very own Eela.” He gestured over to her with a large hand before crossing over to her and clutching her shoulders. “They want this as much as you do. Perhaps even more!” He finished his ravings as Ulfric turned to his War Counselor and lover, Eela. 

“Eela, do you think we’re ready?” He looked at her with those grey blue eyes, filled with weariness. Eela nodded slowly, approaching him until she stood directly in front of him. 

“We’re more than ready. Balgruuf is planning and setting up Imperial troops as we speak. I know we’ll make him regret this.” She looked up at him, a fire burning in her eyes as she spoke. Ulfric nodded and looked over her to Galmar. 

“Ready the troops, Galmar.” 

***

Ulfric’s bed was comfy and warm, especially with him in it. Eela had her head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he played with her long, golden tendrils that splayed across him. She was almost asleep when he spoke up. 

“Do you really believe this is the right move?” He questioned, his chest vibrating deeply as he spoke. Eela looked up at him through sleepy eyes, resting her chin atop his shoulder. 

“Tullius is marching his troops down to Whiterun and setting up barricades right now. You’ve proven yourself, now it’s time for us to prove ourselves.” She spoke softly, her eyes slowly drooping shut as she rested her head back down. 

“I want you leading the troops.” He admitted, staring down at her as he ran his fingers through her soft locks. 

“Mm. It would be an honor, Jarl Ulfric.” She mumbled out against his chest which caused him to chuckle before kissing the top of her head. 

“Sleep now, you’ll need your strength” He closed his eyes himself, hearing her mumble out a half coherent response before falling asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

# Gwenn

Riften was sunny, warm and a gentle breeze lazily drifted by once in awhile. Gwenn had traveled to Volunruud and met the very zealous Amaund Motierre. He gave her a sealed letter, a heavy jeweled amulet and a mission. She was to be the sole person to begin killing important royal people and eventually kill the Emperor. She had relayed this information to Astrid who had sent her immediately to Riften to meet Delvin Mallory, a member of the Thieves Guild. She walked into the Bee and the Barb and just like what had happened in Windhelm, one of her friends embraced her tightly, this time instead of it being Eela, it was Nixie. 

“Gwenn! Long time no see!” She shouted in her ear, making it ring. Gwenn once again pried her friends arms off of her and smiled. Nixie had ditched her mages robes and traded them for a set of armor covered in buckles and straps. 

“How’s the College?” Gwenn asked as Nixie set her hand on her shoulder and led over to a table where she sat. Nixie laughed and sat, taking a sip of her mead. 

“I’m not with the College any more. God, that snob fest is so boring. I’m with the Thieves Guild now.” She grinned, mischief glinting in her blood red eyes. Gwenn’s own eyes widened and she leaned forward. 

“Christ, really? What are the chances…” She leaned back as an Argonian man came and filled a tankard before handing it to Gwenn. Nixie raised an eyebrow and laid her palms flat on the table top. 

“What are you talking about?” Nixie’s eyebrows furrowed together as she leaned forward. Gwenn set her drink down, wiping mouth of stray drops of mead. 

“I’m in need of assistance. I need something appraised by Delvin Mallory and perhaps you could lead me to him.” She kept her smile as Nixie stood, throwing down a few coins onto the table for their drinks. 

“You’re in luck then, follow me.”

# Nixie

Once Gwenn had left after her appraisal with Delvon, the older man informed Nixie that Mercer Frey wanted to see her. She thanked him and waved as she delved into the Cistern. Upon entry she spotted Brynjolf and Mercer Frey standing on top of the raised platform in the middle of the Cistern. She approached slowly as the two turned their attention to her. Mercer smirked once she stood among them. 

“Good, you’re here. I’ve got a job for you to show us how good your expertise is.” Mercer crossed his arms over his chest, smugly snickering. 

“Wait, you’re not talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn’t get in there.” Brynjolf's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, worry taking over his features. Mercer shot a glare at Brynjolf, frowning as well. 

“You claim this recruit possess an aptitude for our line of work. If so, let her prove it.”

An hour later the sun had set and Nixie was on her way to Goldenglow Estate to steal the Bill of Sale and set fire to bee hives. She had learned about a sewer entrance from Vex and had borrowed a blade from Brynjolf seeing as she mainly armed herself with magic and he wasn’t going to let her go in without some sort of steel. As she swam through murky water around the estate, she spotted at least a dozen guards, if not more on the outside. Once she found the sewer entrance, she lifted the lid and said a prayer before going in, not caring who answered it whether be Divine or Daedra, as long as someone made it so she got out of there alive. 

It took her a good hour of traversing twisting tunnels and dead ends before she finally found the entrance to the house. The light stung her eyes as she climbed into the basement portion of the grand estate. She found herself locked behind a gate, the safe holding the Bill of Sale just beyond. She pulled out her lock pick set and began to fiddle with the lock keeping her just mere inches away from victory. After 3 lock lips, the gate clicked and swung open. Muttering a thanks under her breath, she then began on the safe which claimed 5 more of her lock picks for itself before popping open with the 6th attempt. She whispered a loud yes as she dove into the safe, taking the large sack of gold and the letter inside before escaping through the sewer. 

When she found herself back on the outside of the estate, she began to sneak along the sides of the island it sat upon, hearing guards walk above her and talk aimlessly as she crept along to the beehives. When she finally got to the little island that held the buzzing bees, she climbed atop it, crawling along the wooden fence on her hands and knees to keep from being seen. As she reached the last three, she climbed onto her feet, crouching behind the hives. With a flick of her fingers, the first one was on fire, then the second one and finally the third. Once the third one had been lit, the guards caught sight of her. She stood quickly and ran, diving into the water but not before an arrow could lodge itself into her calf. She hit the water with a screech and loud splash, the pain from her leg ripping up to her hip as her face stung from coming in contact with the water so hard. Luckily, no one seemed to follow her and she was able to make it to shore on the other side of the lake where she ripped out the arrow from her leg before hobbling back into the city.   
She took the graveyard entrance into the Cistern, dropping down from the ladder and onto the stone which shot fiery pain up her leg. Nixie winced as she walked along up the bridge and to the center of the Cistern where Brynjolf smiled at her proudly. 

“Word on the street is that Goldenglow’s been hit. Good job, lass.” He smirked and clapped her on the shoulder which sent her stumbling forward. “Woah woah woah! Easy there, lass. Looks like you’ve taken a hit,” He looked at her worriedly, “Come on, I’ll get you patched up.” He wrapped her arm around his shoulder and grabbed her waist, helping her along to his bed which was one among many in the Cistern. He sat her down and began rummaging through her chest for bandages. She kicked off her boot, revealing an unsightly hole in the back of her calf. As Brynjolf began to wrap up her calf in bandages, she remembered something. She slung her bag around into her lap, diving her hand into it and pulling out the crisp Bill of Sale. 

“Bryn. Here.” She held it out to him as he looked up. He smiled, finishing off her bandages and sitting next to her on the bed, ripping open the seal and quickly reading what was printed on it. His eyes widened as he read, obviously taken aback by the Bill. 

“Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What’s that idiot thinking?” He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “He’s got no idea the extent of Maven’s fury when she’s been cut out of a deal, but I’m certain he’ll find out.” He sighed deeply, scratching at his beard. “If only this parchment had the buyers name instead of this odd symbol. Any idea what that is?” He asked, facing the paper in her direction. Nixie leaned over, her hand falling on top of his. She ignored her quickening heart beat and glanced at the symbol atop the page. It was a small dagger with a large black circle behind it. Nixie had seen weird runes and symbols before during her time at the College but nothing like this. 

“Not a damn clue.” She shrugged, looking up at him, his face drawn with confusion. She felt her cheeks heat as his hand moved from hers to her knee. “I’ll check with my sources but for now, you’re off to see Maven Black-Briar.” He informed her, tucking away the Bill of Sale into his pocket. 

“W-What? THE Maven Black-Briar?” She stammered out, dumbstruck at the idea of seeing the Maven Black-Briar and then suddenly fearful. Brynjolf nodded softly, patting her knee. 

“She asked for you by name, lass.” He informed her to which she looked even more confused. 

“I hope I make it out of there alive.” She prayed, knowing all too well that the people of Riften who defied Maven were usually never heard of again. Brynjolf chuckled, shaking his head. 

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. You’ll do fine, I believe in you.” He smiled at her softly before standing and walking off, leaving her to wonder.


	11. Chapter 11

# Eela

It was cold but clear as made Eela made her way from the Palace of the Kings down to the stables where Galmar and the troops already were. She had donned her clean, improved Stormcloak armor, heavy fur boots encasing her feet as a gleaming Orcish sword sat on her hip. By the time she made it to the stables, dozens of men, more than she could count, crowded the carriage and horses and all around the stable hands house.

Galmar greeted her with a nod and an impish grin as she stood in front of more than 50 young men and women, fresh faced and ready for battle. As she stared among the sea of familiar and foreign faces, Galmar placed a large wooden crate in front of her and grabbed her hand, helping her step on top of it. She towered over the crowd as a hush fell over it, somewhere around 100 eyes stared back at her. She smiled proudly before clearing her throat. 

“Sons and daughters of Skyrim! I am Eela or Bone-Breaker to some of you. And today I stand before you as your leader as we march out way to Whiterun.” She shouted at the top of her lungs, making sure everyone among the group heard her, her voice echoing amongst the mountains. Cheers and applause broke out as she stood above them, beaming with pride. Moments passed and the same silence fell over the crowd, allowing her to continue. 

“Two years ago, Imperial soldiers burned down my farm and killed my parents. In a whirlwind of grief and rage, I marched all the way up to Windhelm and pledged my allegiance to Ulfric right then and there.” Her last few words hung heavy over the crowd, leaving a few seconds to pass before she continued, “And over the years, many of you have done the same, Today you stand here because you fight for what you believe in. A free Skyrim, an equal Skyrim where any man can choose who he worships without the decree of any other man or mer.” Her voice was rising in anger, almost screaming her words as the crowd erupted into loud cheers and yells in agreement. 

“Jarl Balgruuf the Greater is a confused and angry man, who in an attempt to please his Court, he sided with the Empire.” Her hands clasped behind her back as she rolled her shoulders. Boos came in groups of threes and fours from the crowd before dying off. “As we march our way to Whiterun to reclaim it for Skyrim, think of why you joined this Rebellion and remember those ideas as you hack through Imperial dogs.” She unsheathed her sword, raising it high above her head, her other hand balled into a fist at her side.  
“For Talos!” She screamed, the crowd echoing back.

“For Jarl Ulfric!” Her sword pointed straight up into the sky, the group growing louder with their response.

“For Skyrim!” Tears streamed down her cheeks as her soldiers yelled back their praise, clapping and hollering as she lowered her sword. Eela nodded down to Galmar who jogged off, fetching her honey colored mare and a flag. Pushing her sword back down into its cover, she grabbed the flag with two hands and began to screw it into it’s holster on the back of her saddle. The crowd grew louder as a flap of wind showed off the brilliant blue and gold banner of the Stormcloaks, the gold bears head glinting in the sun. Eela climbed atop her steed and began to trot down the stone path, out of Windhelm and down the road. Chanting had begun as soldiers followed in toe, laughing and jesting, good spirits among many doomed men. Eela smiled at the large statue of Talos as she passed it, kissing her first two fingers and sending it off for him in hopes her battle would be won.

# Gwenn

After getting the amulet appraised and reporting back to Astrid, Gwenn was tasked with the first of a long string of missions that would eventually get her in front of the Emperor. Before she could even begin to think about that, she first had to go for someone low on the royal food chain. Gwenn was given a fortnight to prepare for her assassination of Vittoria Vici, the cousin of the Emperor, on her wedding day. Gabriella had set up an enchanted elven bow on the opposite balcony and Babette inform her of a loose gargoyle right above where the bride was to deliver her speech. She brushed up on her etiquette, remembering what her mother had taught her at a young age. She even commissioned Taaire and Endarie of Radiant Raiment to make her a gown for the occasion. Made of blue velvet with silver embellishments and a heavy fur shawl, it was perfect for a royal wedding.

She left Falkreath two days prior to the wedding, arriving in Solitude the night before. The next morning she dressed in her new gown, slipped on a silver circlet with sapphires and left for the ceremony. Once there she mingled with the guests, congratulated the bride and groom and even dined on the fresh food. She noted that her Jester was funnier than the one provided by the couple. Three hours into the reception, the newlyweds climbed up to the balcony to the Temple of the Divines, signaling Gwenn’s time for action. She slipped into the opposite building, getting onto the balcony. There she found a beautiful shining Elven bow and 6 sharpened arrows. A bottle of poison sat near by. Crouching behind a pillar, she popped open the bottle and coated one of the arrows with the thick green liquid. She then pulled out a potion of her own from her satchel, an invisibility potion which she spent a week crafting with the help of Gabriella. The bride at the edge of the balcony, letting a hush fall over the crowd. 

“Good people of Solitude. I just wanted to take this time to thank you all for being here. To thank you for sharing this wonderfully happy day with my--” The arrow found itself lodged in between the blushing bride’s eyes. She fell forward and plummeted to the ground below with a sickening crack. The crowd screamed and began to frantically run about. Gwenn downed the potion and made her way out of the building and into the market place of Solitude. She peaked her head around to see the guards corralling horrified men and women into a group and began to question everyone. She laughed as she slipped down the streets and to the stables. 

***

Everyone in the Sanctuary congratulated Gwenn on the success of her contract. They all cracked jokes of Sithis earning himself a blushing new bride and the wrong type of blood spilled on wedding night. After everyone dispersed, she treated herself to a bath and then wandered into Cicero’s room. She found it relatively clean and organized for that matter, something she would have thought the opposite of. She found him sitting at his table, writing away in his journal. She sashayed in as he hummed an unknown tune as he scratched away with his quill. She sat down opposite of him at the table, resting her cheeks atop her palms as she looked at him with sleepy eyes. He placed a mark in his journal and looked up, his eyes going wide with surprise at her presence. 

“O-Oh! Gwenn! Cicero hadn’t realized you had walked in, how rude of me.” He clutched his hands together, stuttering along as he spoke, obviously embarrassed. Gwenn just kept her soft smile, and sighed softly. 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” She shrugged her shoulders, dragging her fingertips across the polished wood table. Cicero raised an eyebrow, setting aside his quill and journal. 

“Is Gwenn alright?” He questioned, rising from his side of the table and sliding over to hers. She opened her eyes and nodded. 

“I’m fantastic, for the first time in weeks I am relaxed and content.” She turned around, resting her elbows on the table top and throwing her head back, sighing once more. 

“How’d Gwenn’s contract go?” He inquired, chiming happily as a smile slipped onto his face. Gwenn let a laugh rise from her throat as she finally sat up straight, turning to face him. 

“It was thrilling! I’ve never killed in a crowd before, it as such a rush! To watch everyone be filled with terror instantly was so exciting.” She grabbed his hands as she raved on, intertwining their fingers together. Cicero chuckled and nodded along as she talked.

“Cicero’s proud of Gwenn, you always surprises me with how deadly you can be!” He scooted closer, a grin on his face. Gwenn blushed and brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. 

“I appreciate it, Cicero. You always light up my day.” She looked down, trying to hide the burning red on her cheeks. Cicero’s hand softly settled under her chin and pulled her head up, their eyes locking. She noted the flecks of green in his amber eyes and he noted how just like actual sapphires her eyes resembled. Slowly the few inches between their faces receded and their lips slowly brushed against each other. Both of their hearts pounded in their chests as the kiss deepened, her hands settling on her chest as both of his intertwined in her soft hair. Moments yet what felt like era later, they broke apart. They stared at each other for a few seconds before they broke into childish giggles. Gwenn stood from her seat, sighing contently. 

“I should get to bed, I’ll probably have to begin the next part of this mission soon. Goodnight, Cicero.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead before turning on her heel and sashaying out, humming as she made her exit. She had been gone for a minute or two before Cicero snapped out of it. 

“Goodnight, Gwenn.”


	12. Chapter 12

# Nixie

Whiterun was buzzing with Imperial soldiers who set up barricades and posts, preparing for the incoming onslaught of Stormcloak soldiers. Nixie found herself just outside of the city at Honningbrew Meadery, on a mission to destroy the meadery from the inside given to her by Maven Black-Briar herself. She found the owner inside, frantically cleaning the floors when he nearly begged her to go and set the traps in the basement to finally kill the skeever infestation which had taken over the bottom levels of the mead production buildings. Nixie grinned impishly and accepted graciously. 

She had no clue the amount of skeevers she could be facing down in the basement of Honningbrew Meadery. She blasted through dozens of the beady eyed, scratchy creatures who bit at her ankles and scratched at her calves. She had to constantly wrap herself in her flame cloak as she blasted fire from both of her palms. Leaving tiny charred bodies in her wake, she burst through spider webs to find a large cavern beneath the meadery. She was met with at least 10 skeevers who hissed and jumped at her as a crazy vagrant emerged from the shadows and began swinging a dull iron blade at her while yelling incoherent things. Nixie unsheathed her own steel dagger which she swung quickly, catching the vagrant in the shoulder with it. As she swung her blade in the air, trying to strike the mad man, she blasted the skeevers at her feet with fireballs, sending the enlarged rats flying off into the air, burning. 

When the fighting was finally done, charred rats littered the ground and the vagrant was lying in a pool of his own blood. Nixie sheathed her dagger and stormed deeper into the cavern, finding the large nest and sprinkling just a few drops of the poison in the large collection of hay and sticks. Once done with that she struggled her way out of the cavern, finding herself dumped out into the second building belonging to the meadery. Three giant vats lined each wall, all steaming and smelling like sweet honey. Nixie climbed up the ladder to the platform which stood above the vats, allowing people to mix the sickeningly sweet smelling mead. She opened up the lid to the one closest to the door, steam pouring out of the top of the vat. As the steam cleared, Nixie pulled the top off of the rat poison which she then dumped the entirety of it into mead. She then put the bottle in her bag and climbed down the ladder, bursting out into the world again.

As she made her way back into the main building, she spotted the Captain of the Guard ready for his taste testing. She took a seat next to Mallus Maccius who is the one who informed her of the whole plan. They smirked at each other as Sabjorn, the meadery owner, came rushing back to hand the Captain a brand new mug of mead. He smiled nervously as the Captain sniffed it, his fast recoiling in disgust. An argument broke out after the Captain took a soft sip, spitting it out at the taste of poison. When the Captain left, he took Sabjorn with him in rope binds. 

Nixie and Mallus shared smirks once more before he handed her the key to Sabjorn’s dresser. She thanked him and made her way to the next room over where she climbed the stairs and found a nearly barren room. Unlocking the dresser, she stuffed the few coins along with the note into her pockets. Her eyes drifted to the closet which she slowly slinked over to, tugging on the handles. She pouted when she found it to be locked, digging into her pockets to find her lockpicks. Two snapped off but the third one clicked, the doors swinging open. Inside there was a large coin purse, silver ingots, gems and a large golden vase. She took everything for her own before heading for the stables to take her back to Riften. 

The sun was setting as she made her way into the Bee and the Barb, the tiny Inn packed with customers, jesting and singing while they drank. Upstairs was quiet from the laughter as Nixie carefully approached Maven Black-Briar. She smiled and set her drink down as she approached. 

“Ah, I trust you have good news for me.” She stood, leaning against the adjacent table. Nixie nodded, staying silent as she plunged her hands into her pockets, handing her the sealed letter she had recovered from Sabjorn’s dresser. 

“Job’s finished. Here’s the information you requested.” Nixie attempted to sound cordial, like a servant in attempts to please Maven who simply brushed over it as she ripped open the letter. Her eyes scanned the parchment as her regular frown deepened significantly, her hands gripping hard to the parchment. 

“This doesn’t tell me much, the only thing that could identify Sabjorn’s partner is this symbol.” She pointed to the top of the page which held a blackened circle with a dagger over top of it. 

“I’ve...seen that symbol before.” Nixie’s own eyebrows furrowed as Maven slowly folded the paper back, her face dark with rage. 

“Whoever this mysterious marking represents will regret starting a war with me.” Her voice was colder than normal as she clutched her hands together. “You should bring this to the Guild immediately. I have business to attend to.” She smiled forcefully before pushing past Nixie and storming out of the building. 

Nixie found Brynjolf inside the Flagon at the bar, attempting to enjoy himself. He greeted her with a large smile and a pat on the back as she climbed on top of the stool next to him. 

“Word on the street is that poor Sabjorn has found himself in Whiterun’s prison. How unfortunate…” He chuckled, taking a swig of his drink before grinning at her. She nodded softly, taking her own drink from the barkeep her nodded at her. 

“How fortunate for Maven…” She backhandedly, sipping the mead from her tankard. Brynjolf nodded at her, either not catching the disdain in her voice or ignoring it. 

“Exactly. Now you’re beginning to see how our little system works. I’m assuming you found something out from this whole mission.” He raised an eyebrow, turning in his chair to fully face her. She set her mug down and did the same. 

“The same symbol from the Goldenglow Estate was involved.” She informed him, fiddling her fingers together. Brynjolf sighed deeply, his brows furrowing. 

“This is beyond coincidence then. First Aringoth and now Sabjorn.” His face went grim, his voice darkening, “Someone’s trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. Nixie looked up at him with sad eyes, a frown on her face. 

“Is there anything we can do?” She questioned, clutching her hands together her eyebrows furrowed sadly. Brynjolf looked at her and smiled softly. 

“Go see Mercer. He thinks he has the solution to this thorn in our side.” He patted her knee softly before ushering her along. She climbed down from her stool and made her way back into the Cistern. 

“Nixie!” She whipped around to find Brynjolf had called her back and he smiled brightly at her. 

“I’m proud of you.”

# Eela

Whiterun was overrun with Imperial soldiers, their glamorous red and golden armor surrounded the city, crowding the outside stone walls and wooden barricades. Eela stood next to Galmar who raved fantastically about honor and glory while she stared over the sea of more 70 men, half destined for Sovngarde by the end of the battle. She then looked out over her men and to the snowy mountains and rolling fields behind them. It was almost too perfect a day for such a bloody mess to take place. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the cold wind on her cheeks, the smell of fresh grass and icy snow from the mountains filtering through her small nose. Suddenly, a large hand gripped her shoulder and her eyes flashed open to meet Galmar and the troops silent. 

“Eela, would you say a prayer?” He looked at her with softened eyes, something she hadn’t seen in him before. She smiled and nodded before bowing her head and placing her hands atop her chest. 

“Talos, the almighty, we pray to you on this beautiful day and ask that you grant us glory in the battle to come. For those of us who see tomorrow, we thank you for the strength. For those of us who find ourselves in Sovngarde later, we hope we’ve served you well.” She looked up from the ground to find more than one hundred eyes staring back at her, nodding. She then smiled and ripped her sword from her sheath, holding it high above her head. 

“Now! Let’s slay down these Imperial dogs! For Skyrim!” She yelled at the top of her lungs, a hundred voices shouting back at her as the sound of steel rang in her ears while the firey cannon balls flew through the blue sky and crashed into the stone walls which crumbled from the great force. Eela began to lead the troops up the stone path to the barricades which people began to chop and kick down. Arrows flew into the crowd and past her head as her blade met Imperial soldier flesh. The Imperial troops were more scarce in numbers than she thought there would be. She wouldn’t complain though, as much as she loved fighting, her blade coated in blood, the less Imperial men to fight, the more of her soldiers would be able to march back to Windhelm. 

They were almost to the gate when Eela retained her first injury. As she sliced through soldiers, she came upon two who decided to fight her at the same time. Her sword blocked against two, the men who struggled against her growing more and more annoyed. She swung against the man to her left, slicing off his arm and sending him falling to the ground. His fellow soldier attempted to avenge him by throwing his sword into her back. His blade bit into her side, sending her stumbled forward where he attempted to send his sword into her neck. Galmar’s axe took of the Imperial man’s head, leaving him a corpse that spewed blood from shoulders. He lent her a hand and she graciously took it, climbing to her feet and pushing past the giant wooden doors into the city. 

Inside, she found the city half ablaze, the stone walls almost gone as her and her troops kicked down barricades and struck down the few Imperial men who thought they could hold the city. As she rounded the Gildergreen, an enemy soldier popped out from behind the statue of Talos and fired a single arrow that found itself lodged in her shoulder. He reloaded as she dropped her sword and he sent another arrow which found itself deep in her thigh. As she cried out in pain, a dozen of her men and women turned to skewer the single soldier full of arrows, sending him falling forward, his head cracking against the stone wall. Eela stood on shaky feet, leaning against the blooming tree as she ripped the arrow out of her arm and then her leg. The two arrows fell from her bloody finger tips to the ground with a soft clatter before she picked up her sword and moved on. Her and Galmar began to climb up the steps towards Dragonsreach. They sliced the men guarding it with their blades before pushing them into the waters below. Eela turned to look down on the dozens and dozens of blue cloaked men below her, chanting her name as she made her way past the last few wooden barricades and into Dragonsreach. 

They sheathed their swords, greeted by the Captain of the Guard, Irileth, Jarl Balgruuf and a few foot soldiers. Eela found herself blacking in and out as yelling ensued, finally feeling the fatigue of traveling for days and injury from battle. She found herself leaning against Galmar as an older man burst into the room, yelling at Balgruuf and beginning to negotiate with her and the old bear. Words came out of her mouth that she didn’t hear or understand as the responses he gave didn’t seem to register. Her eyes slipped closed as Galmar ranted with the older man, both shaming Balgruuf and his men into submission. When it was finally said and done, Eela had fallen asleep leaning against Galmar. He woke her with a smack to the back and she jolted, her eyes flashing open. 

“Did we win?” She muttered, embarrassed she had fallen asleep against her fellow war adviser in the midst of negotiation with the enemy. He smirked and chuckled, patting her on her non injured shoulder. 

“Aye. We won. Now, go congratulate your troops.” He pushed her softly, ushering her out of Dragonsreach and to her troops below. As she crossed the bridge, she noticed how red the water below had turned. She slowly slunk down the stone steps as her troops cheered and chanted her name. Her smile grew as she got to the last few steps and stood above her men who may have been beaten and bloodied, but were still there. She still had so many men and women with her that they filled the Wind District and spilled over into the Plains District below.

“Sons and daughters of Skyrim! Today is a fantastic day. Whiterun now belongs to the Stormcloaks!” She screamed, her voice raw but her smile wide. The cheers were deafening as applause and cheers erupted from the news. As she stared out into the sea of blue armor clad men and women, she felt pride swell in her chest over her victory.


	13. Chapter 13

# Gwenn

Commander Maro son, Gaius, was a boring man to say the least. He followed routine to a tee and never seemed to break whatever facade he had. Gwenn found stalking him to be easily the least exciting thing she had ever done in her 20 years of life. Luckily the end of his life came quickly, she left him dead in the middle of Morthal, right in front of the Jarl’s doorstep. It was almost dark by the time she stumbled into the forest outside of Falkreath, her feet were blistered and her legs screamed at her to stop but she somehow found the will to drag herself to the black door. Upon entry something felt off, the Sanctuary felt colder than normal, the place eerily silent as her footsteps seemed to echo on for meters as she dove deeper into her home. Instead of Astrid greeting her it was Gabriella who gave her a sack of coin, a stone and then pushed her along down the stairs. There she was met with Veezara doubled over, coated in blood as Nazir and Babette tend to his wound. Festus stood on standby as Astrid paced back and forth. Upon seeing Gwenn, she nearly jumped a foot in the air as she stalked over to her. 

“Thank god you’re here...That...That Cicero…” She spat the name out, fury lighting up in her eyes, “He went mad...started yelling and screaming at me, then tried to take a swing at me…” Her eyes lingered back to Veezara who now had Gabriella tending to him. “Veezara took it for me, Cicero fled and Arnbjorn...He...He went after him...” Tears began to swell and pour from her ice blue eyes as fear melded with the unwavering anger. “We..don’t know where he went...go to his room and find out what he’s up to, find him and kill him..” She hissed, eyes narrowing as she stalked away. Gwenn felt a pit began to slowly crack open inside her stomach as she scurried into Cicero’s room. It felt empty, void of warmth and while the room was never filled with possessions, now it really sank in. On top of the table sat the leather bound journal with “Final Volume” etched into the soft brown material. Skipping most of the hand written pages, she skipped to the last entry which detailed the abandoned sanctuary in Dawnstar and the password to it’s Black Door. The last few sentences hit her in the heart where Cicero apologizes to her before signing his name, leaving a dozen more pages blank. It took Gwenn a few minutes before she was able to put down the journal and leave. She reported back to Astrid who grinned wickedly, instructing her to take her trusty stead, Shadowmere and even her own blade to kill the Jester with. 

Stars shone brightly overhead as the auroras danced playfully, their colors flickering from green to purple to blue. Gwenn road Shadowmere at full gallop, getting to Dawnstar within an hour. As the horse’s hooves brought her closer and closer, fear overtook every fiber of her being, her heart hammering in her chest as nausea crept up her throat. As the port of Dawnstar and it’s mountain's took shape, blood became apparent in patches in the otherwise pristine snow. She found Arnbjorn slumped over in the snow, his hand pressed against a gash in his side. Jumping down from the horse, she ran over, a yellow light beginning to emanate from her hands. Arnbjorn began to protest as she pressed her hands to his side but he quickly stopped as his wound began to heal and disappear from his skin. He thanked her and she nodded before strutting forward to the Black Door, an air of false confidence surrounding her as the unearthly voice festered in her head. 

_“What...Is life's...greatest...illusion?”_

“Innocence, my brother.” The door swung open and she stepped into the dimly lit, dusty and cold Sanctuary. Immediately Cicero’s voice began to bounce against the walls, coming from somewhere deeper inside the empty Sanctuary. 

“Listener! Is that you? Oh, I’d knew you come! Send the best to defeat the best!” He laughed madly before groaning, “Astrid knew her stupid...wolf couldn’t....slay...sly Cicero.” Pain grew in his voice as it echoed off of stone walls before leaving silence in its place. Gwenn’s heart beat heavily against her ribs as she held her hands out in front of her, muttering words under her breath. A blue light began to pulse from her palms as suddenly a spectral figure appeared in front of her, the soul of a legendary assassin, Lucien Lachance. She opened her eyes and cracked a soft smile as the man in front of her grinned fantastically. 

_“Lead...and I will follow...Child of Darkness.”_ He greeted her, bowing in respect to her. He popped back up and she sighed deeply, leaning against the wall near by. 

“Lucien...I’m unsure what to do. Do I kill Cicero or spare him?” She asked, tears stinging the rim of her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair as Lucien took a deep breath, letting out a soft ‘mmm’ before stepping in front of her. 

_“The Keeper is a sacred position within the Dark Brotherhood. Ask yourself: do you trust the wisdom of our Lady?”_ He asked raising an eyebrow. Gwenn bit the side of her lip, peeling off a piece of skin, blood trickling down her chin. He sighed, standing up straight, his hands clasped behind his back.

_“I will kill this jester if you so desire, but there is a disturbance in the Void. Our Dread Father does not wish this.”_ He bowed once more and Gwenn nodded before unsheathing her own dagger and stalking into the Sanctuary. As she stormed into the main part of the building, she was greeted with a Guardian who tried to send his ax into her head. She screamed and ducked, sending her dagger into his foot as Lucien took a swing, sending the soul into a pile of ash. Cicero’s voice echoed again. 

“Oh! But this isn’t what mother wants!” He screamed, anger boiling in his voice, “You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener! Haha! Now that!....That’s madness..” 

Crawling to her feet, she nodded at Lucien as they moved along, crossing a wooden bridge which swayed with every step she took. When she met the midway point, sharp iron spikes shot from the walls, one sliced through her shoulder. She screamed, falling forward and almost off the bridge, her shouting alerting two more Guardians who came rushing for her. Lucien killed one with his arrow as the other met her blade, both falling into piles of ash. 

“Ouch! Pointy Pointy! My home is well defended!” Cicero’s voice came back again for the second time no pain lacing his words, “I’ve always been a stickler for details! Get it? “Stick-ler.” Oh ho ho ho ho ho! I slay me” He laughed wildly for a while as Lucien helped her the rest of the way across and to a bench where she sat for a handful of minutes before climbing to her feet and continuing on. She found herself underneath of the bridge that nearly claimed her life, the ground in front of her littered with oil. A snap of her finger set the liquid aflame, the three Guardian’s in front of her ran through the fire, reaching her and falling to ash at her feet. Grinning, she watched the flame die away before following down the corridor, slipping down a hall which earned her more ravings from the madman. 

“You’re...still alive..? Cicero respects Gwenn’s abilities, of course~! But..could you...at least slow down...a bit? I’m not what...I used to be..Heh.” Pain began to seep more deeply into his voice and he began to cough harshly. 

“I’m not gonna kill you!” She screamed down the empty corridors gaining no response. Tears prickled in her eyes as the pain in her shoulder resonated with the pain in her heart. The Guardian’s she then faced she burned with fire as she slumped along to the dining area, a hole in the wall was covered in ice and spilled snow out onto the floor. As she climbed in, her hands dragged along the walls, stone still apparent in patches. A yowl came from deeper in the cavern, Gwenn’s breath catching in her throat. Cicero added in his knowledge. 

“Brr! Chilly! You’ll enjoy this....Not an original part of the Sanctuary, per se...Let’s call it a forced addition...forced by what? Oh, come and see!” He laughed as she came into the main part of the cavern. A Frost Troll let out a great roar as he jumped down from his cliff and charged Gwenn. She screamed as his three toed paw gripped her and flung her a few feet away, her back and head hitting the ice covered wall with a sickening crack. A spectral arrow pierced the creature's skull as Gwenn crawled to her feet, sending a fireball from her palm which landed dead center in the Troll’s chest. With quick movements, she drew out her bow and an arrow, hitting it in the spot where her fireball had hit moments before. The troll stumbled back, falling flat on his back, Lucien dealing the last blow with his sword. They nodded at each other, Gwenn’s breathing coming in hard, short bursts. She dragged herself along out of the snowy cavern and found the stone part of Sanctuary again. 

“Alright! So, Cicero attacked that harlot, Astrid!” He screamed at the top of his lungs as Gwenn pulled down on a chain, lowering a spike barrier. “But..what’s a fool to do when his mother is slandered and mocked? Surely Gwenn understand...” He faded out as she entered a new part of the building with stone openings reaching the ceiling, wooden coffins filling each slot. She felt the numbness in her fingers begin to fade away as she kept a grip on her Elven bow. Cicero’s voice was louder this time, but not with anger, just from how close she was getting to him. 

“Cicero admits, he thought Gwenn...would be dead by now...Heh...Maybe we could forget all of this? Hmm? Let bygones be bygones? What do you say?” Playfulness filled this calling and Gwenn looked around, limping along. 

“Yes! I wanna forget! Please, Cicero!” She called out as she turned a corner, her voice alerting a Guardian who she quickly turned to ash with an arrow she then picked up and reloaded. She struggled to make her way up the stairs, each step burning the muscles in her legs which screamed at her to stop. 

“If it’s any comfort, I do feel slightly bad Veezara! Stupid lizard got in the way! But please...please tell me that hulking sheepdog bled to death.” Pain ripped through his voice which also held great disdain for Arnbjorn. She ran up the last few steps, despite the great pain in her legs. She grabbed a cold metal pull chain, letting the spikes slip down slowly. 

“And here...we come to the end of our play! The...grande...finale.” He coughed loudly, the sound of blood ripping up his throat. Her heart beat so loudly she thought the entirety of Tamriel would hear it before it beat out of her chest. She set her hand on the worn wooden door and pushed it open, all of her fear exploding into grand realization as she found Cicero laying on the floor, a large wound that kept pulsing out blood laid deep in his chest. She found herself frozen in place as he grinned, blood coating his mouth, covering pale lips and white teeth with crimson. He rose his hands up in defeat, laughing lightly. 

“You caught me! I surrender...Ha ha ha!” He grinned madly before clutching his hand over his wound. She stayed silent, bow still clutched in her cold and bloodied hands. His smile faded and sudden realization that he was going to die came to him. 

“Killing me would be a mistake! Oh, yes! You would displease our Mother, hmm? For she’s your Mother, too, isn’t she...Listener?” He used the that he knew she hated. Her eyes flashed with fury as she took two hard steps, looming over her with a glare on her face. 

“Do what you will. Cicero has no fight left. In the end, Sithis will judge us both.” He held his hands up in defeat, closing his eyes and sighing deep. Suddenly her demeanor softened, throwing her bow aside and collapsing into tears on the floor. She dragged herself over to the Jester, pulling his head into her lap. He opened his eyes, half lidded, tired amber orbs staring up at her. Her cold hands warmed as golden light erupted from her palms and fingertips. She pushed her hands against his chest, the large gaping wound beginning to close up, leaving nothing but a small scratch on the surface of his chest. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion as he sat up, his hand dragging over what was once a mortal wound. Gwenn shakily stood and waved over Lucien who grabbed one of Cicero’s arm while she grabbed the other, both of them dragging him over to a nearby bed where they laid him down. After tending to his less serious wounds, Gwenn left him a note and let him fall into sweet oblivion. She then stormed out of the Sanctuary and climbed upon Shadowmere just as the sun began to peak over Dawnstar’s mountains. As soon as Falkreath came into view she pulled out an iron dagger from her bag and a poison bottle. She ripped off the cork and poured the thick green liquid on the blade which she then ran across her cheek, slicing open a nice gash from her cheekbone to her chin. Another dip into the poison allowed her to reopen the wound in her shoulder and she then finished off the bottle and shattered it on the ground before plunging the blade into her belly. As she retracted it, she groan in pain, her vision becoming foggy and tinted with green. She flung the dagger into the forest and galloped back to the Sanctuary. Once by the reflecting pool she climbed off of Shadowmere and stumbled inside, once reaching the foyer, she collapsed with a loud thud.


	14. Chapter 14

# Nixie

The East Empire Shipping Company’s warehouse on the docks of Solitude was a large, open cavern filled with water and docked ships along with barrels and boxes filled with so much supplies that Nixie had to use every ounce of willpower not to crack open every case and pocket the items for herself. She was slinking along and over crates, tailing behind an Argonian man who had information that he refused to give her. It wasn’t long before her knees were aching and her back felt stiff as she slipped behind and around guards. As she crept around a ship, she watched the man she was following slip under the wooden platforms and disappear from sight. She groaned, biting her lip as she slipped onto all fours, her hands finding soft, wet dirt as she crawled along the ground, past the guards a few meters away. Luckily, she found the same spot where the Argonian had slipped through and she stood, sloshing through water until she rounded a corner and found a door. Light filtered through a frosted window in the wooden door and stung her eyes as she tried to peer through the glass with no avail. She tugged on the door handle, it swinging open with ease and she smirked, slipping through. 

The inside of the tunnel was large and open, water to her left and walkways to her right. Large wooden platforms lined the right wall and held pelts and potions along with iron weapons. 

“Oi! Elf!” She heard an unfamiliar voice rip through the air and her head jerked around to find two bandits rushing towards her, swords drawn. She ducked quickly as one of the bandits swung his blade over her head. She popped up and from her left palm ripped ice shards and from her right palm ripped flame. She stepped over half charred, half frozen bodies and continued her way through the cavern. As she traveled over natural and man made pathways, the few bandits that littered the cave fell to her destruction magic. When she finally found the Argonian man, he stood inside a dead end of the cave, surrounded by high wooden platforms filled with boxes and chests. After the two bandits protecting him fell dead by her hand, she approached lizard who coward in the corner. 

“N-Now...there’s no need to do anything rash…” He stood slowly, shaking and twitching as her left hand still held burning fire. “This isn’t as bad as it seems. I was going to tell Mercer everything, honestly! Please...he’ll have me murdered!” He screamed, falling to his knees and pleading, groveling at her feet. She smirked and lifted her foot, smacking the toe of her boot against his chin. 

“Mercer doesn’t have to know…” She teased as he rubbed his jaw before climbing to his feet. 

“I...I see you wish to be reasonable, perhaps I misjudged you…” He grinned and her face went grim again, pulling the flame in her hand closer to his chest. He lept back, hitting the wooden platforms behind her. “Th-The name of the person you want is Karliah!” He screeched, his eyes clenching shut. Nixie lowered her hand, extinguishing the fire in her palms. 

“You say that name like I should know it.” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. His eyes opened and he looked at her with a puzzled expression. 

“Mercer never told you about her?” He questioned and she just scowled at him and he quickly went into explanation, “Karliah is the thief responsible for murdering the previous Guild Master, Gallus. Now she’s after Mercer.” He stammered out, his scaly hands fidgeting. She stepped closer to him, completely cornering him, her hand lighting up with fire once more. 

“And you’re helping her?” Her voice was dark and angry, her blood red eyes darkening. His shaking doubled as his eyes went wide with fear. 

“Help? No, no! Look! I didn’t even know it was her until after she contacted me! Please, you have to believe me!” He fell to her feet again, wrapping his arms around her ankles and beginning to sob. 

“Get up!” She yelled, kicking him off of her and stepping back, leaving him crying on the ground. “Where is Karliah now?” She hollered at him, the flame in her palms doubling in size, the heat filling the space quickly. 

“I...I don’t know! When I asked her where she was going she just muttered “Where the end began” He looked up at her, tears running down his scaly face. He wiped the end of his snout and began dinning in his pockets. He then pulled out a crumbled piece of paper and held it up towards her, “Here, take the Goldenglow Estate Deed as proof. And...when you speak to Mercer...tell him I’m worth more to him alive.” He sniffled, tears still running down his cheeks. She snatched the letter from his hands then sent her boot into the side of his head, his skull cracking as he yelled out in pain. She then turned on her heel and stalked out of the cavern.

# Liliah

It was a surprisingly sunny day in Winterhold, the sky bright blue and free of clouds. Liliah sat in the courtyard of the College, a set of small, fat bluebirds sat by her, bouncing melodies off of one another. She hummed along with the little birds, two spell tomes in her lap, one for the spell Close Wounds and the other for Vampire’s Bane. Her eyes scanned the pages of the large, leather bound books, the sun beating down on her head and shoulders, warming them softly. 

“Liliah?” She looked up to find Mirabelle Ervine looming above her, smiling sweetly at her, a letter clutched in her hands. “This came in the mail for you.” She handed her a sealed letter and smiled again before walking off. Liliah sighed and looked at the wax seal, recognizing the flower and sage symbol to be that of her mother’s. Worry bubbled in her chest as she peeled back the wax and opened the letter. The birds fell silent and a dark cloud covered the sun above as Liliah read the note, anxiety festering inside of her. She slammed shut her spell tomes, the birds at her side flying away as she scrambled to her feet and ran to the Hall of Attainment. The doors burst open and the talking inside reached a sudden halt as Liliah hurried to her room, throwing her books on her bed and pulling her wooden trunk up from under her bed. J’Zargo looked up from his studies in his room as he heard the commotion and went to check. He saw Liliah frantically throwing her clothes and books inside her chest, tears streaming down her face as she did so. 

“Liliah, what’s troubling you?” He questioned, leaning against the door frame. Her head snapped up and she looked helpless, black eyes filled with tears and panic. 

“M-My mother’s sick...I have to go home…” She ran over to her shelves and began packing up her alchemy ingredients. J’Zargo raised his eyebrow, stepping deeper into her room as she threw the rest of her clothes on top and began to lock her case. 

“She’ll be fine, you Elves live forever.” He chuckled, resting his palms against the edge of her bed. She looked at him and shook her head, sniffling. 

“N-No….she’s always been frail…and she’s so old now...and now she has Witbane...I have to go…” She shook her head and dragged her case down from her bed, it hitting the floor with a loud thump before she tied her fur cloak at her throat and rushed from the room.


	15. Chapter 15

# Eela

The sky was just now growing light, the sun barely peaking over the horizon as the stars still dimly shone above. Eela and her men had slept in their tents after the Battle of Whiterun before packing everything up and beginning the travel back to Windhelm. They first traveled south, heading for Helgen where they would pass through the mountain and then back up north to Eastmarch. Eela was at the front of the men, mounted on her horse with a flag against her back that flapped in the wind. Her shoulder and calf burned, her side aching as she nursed healing wounds. Helgen was on the horizon, it’s buildings and walls black against the sky that was tinted soft orange and pink from the rising sun. Eela smiled hoping to find bandages and cream to sooth her injuries. 

Suddenly, a loud roar came from the mountains and everyone came to a halt. An eery silence hung over the troops as everyone’s breath caught in their throat. Eela moved her horse a few feet forward, her men hanging back as she came to a stop again. Suddenly, the sky became dark as a large, winged creature flew above them and towards Helgen. Screams erupted from the crowd as Eela waved a hand and pulled her horse into full gallop, cutting into the woods. She wove through trees, her flag flapping hard against the wind as her men filtered through the forest with her. They all watched through the trees as a giant, black winged creature began wreaking havoc on Helgen, fire ripping from it’s mouth and the sky turning black and clouded, meteors raining down on the town but no where else. 

“By the gods! A dragon!” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, dragon’s haven’t existed for eras!” 

“Then by the Nine, what the hell is burning down Helgen?”

It was over just as quickly as it had begun. The city was smoldering, it’s walls crumbled and it’s buildings ablaze but the sky cleared up, the sun halfway up the sky. The soldiers watched fearfully as the dragon flew high above the clouds and towards the mountains. 

Eela looked around at her shaken and horrified troops, seeing the faces of men who cut down their enemies the day before now coated with terror. She felt a strong hand on her leg and looked down to see Galmar, fear seeping into his hardened, scarred face. She nodded at him and looked up, her face stern. 

“Listen up, men! That...creature...isn’t going to stop us from getting home. We’ll have to haul it through the pass but then after that, we’ll be safe. Let’s move!” She pulled on the reigns of her horse and snaked through the trees, back to the stone path, leaving the burning city of Helgen behind them

# Gwenn

It was raining in Markarth, the city’s smells of iron and smoke heavy in the wet air. Gwenn marched through the city that haunted her, her face concealed by her mask and cowl, the only thing visible were her bright sapphire eyes which were hard with pure hatred. She stalked up the stairs and into Understone Keep, throwing open the doors and heading for the kitchen. There she found two cooks and dogs busy at work, chopping vegetables and mixing broths. She closed the door behind her and her eyes settled on the male chef. He looked up at her from his cutting board and rolled his eyes. 

“We’re really busy here.” He stated exasperatedly, sighing deeply and rolling his eyes once more. Gwenn drew her dagger and reached over the table, grabbing his throat and ramming him into the wall behind him. The girl by his side gasped and went to go escape but Gwenn turned and gave her a cold, hard look, pointing her dagger at her and she went still. 

“I know who you are, Anton. And where you’re from.” She spoke eerily, staring hard into his eyes as he clawed at her hand which clutched his throat. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” He choked out, anger in his voice instead of fear. She smirked behind her mask and he shuddered at that. 

“The Gourmet. Who is he? Where is he?” She questioned, the smirk on her face widening, her eyes going darker. Fear flashed in Anton’s eyes as he struggled against her grip. 

“The….the Gourmet?” He looked horrified as he squirmed under her hand. She kept her grin and nodded slowly. He scowled and shook his head the best he could. “Never! I don’t know what led you here, but nothing will betray my trust! I’ll take the secret of the Gourmet to my grave!” He spit at her, hitting her in the face. She flinched and her eyes flashed with wrath as she wiped away his saliva from her forehead. Lifting her blade up, she pressed it into his cheek, drawing blood as she dragged it to his chin. 

“For the Dark Brotherhood, that can be easily arranged.” She threatened, her voice colder than before. His eyes flashed with fear again, this time it was amplified as his blood dripped down onto his clothes. 

“The…Dark…Brotherhood?” He stammered out, shaking with terror. She nodded slowly once more as he looked around the room before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“His name is Balagog gro-Nolob, he’s an Orc! The Gourmet is an Orc! He’s staying at the Nightgate Inn. That’s all I know...please…” He whimpered, his eyes still clenched shut as he squirmed. Gwenn sheathed her blade and then let go of his throat, letting him sink to the ground before throwing open the kitchen doors and stalking out. 

***

The Nightgate Inn was sequestered in the mountains between Windhelm and Dawnstar. It held a total of 4 rooms and had a roaring fire upstairs. Gwenn slipped in, smiling and giggling and flirting with the drunken men before asking for the downstairs room once it had gotten too late for drinking and jesting. The intoxicated innkeeper gave her a key and kissed her cheek before showing her to the basement. She waved him goodbye as she slipped down the stairs and unlocked the door before closing it silently and withdrawing her blade. 

She found the basement filled with barrels of food and wine, with a small room off to the left. Creeping open the door, she found an Orcish man asleep in the bed with his arm over his face and his foot dangling off the edge of the bed. Out of her bag she grabbed a soft purple bottle filled with a strong poison. Uncorking the lid, she dipped the blade of her Elven dagger inside as Balagog snored heavily. Slinking up to his bedside, she placed the dagger against his throat and with a quick pull, she sliced open his throat, blood gushing from the smile she embedded in his throat. Gwenn riffled through his pockets and found a sealed piece of parchment in his pocket which she stuffed in her own before grabbing his ankles and dragging him off the bed. He hit the ground with a loud thump but she went on, dragging him into the back part of the basement and behind a large stack of hay. Once he was concealed, Gwenn headed back for his room, grabbing his bag which had his chef’s clothes inside. She then crept upstairs, out the door and into the night.

# Nixie

Inside an old Nordic ruin with Mercer Frey was the last place Nixie wanted to be. It was cold, dusty, riddled with Draugr and Mercer was nothing but pushy and annoying. Their footsteps echoed through ancient halls as Nixie was forced to lead ahead in an attempt by Mercer to save his own skin. Had he not been her Guildmaster, she would have set him ablaze before they entered the crypt. While he made her take the lead, he kept rambling on and on about this infamous Karliah and how he was sure to leave her as a bloody pulp before they left. She took to counting the number of times the name Karliah flew out of his mouth and by the time they were towards the end of the crypt where this woman was no doubt hiding, Mercer had uttered the name two dozen times. If he hadn’t mentioned how much he wanted her dead, Nixie would have thought he was surely in love with her. 

By the time they reached a long hall with one of those claw puzzles at the end, Nixie was tired, cold and a sense of dread pitted itself into her stomach. As she carefully stepped around open bear traps, Mercer strutted up to the door, smirking. 

“Ah, it’s one of those infamous Nordic puzzle doors…how quaint.” He chuckled, leaning down and fiddling with something. Nixie couldn’t care less about how he opened the door or why, she just wanted to be out of there. Iron scrapping iron caught her attention as she saw Mercer smirking back at her, the door lowering slowly. He jabbed her in the back and she rolled her eyes, stepping forward and taking the lead once more as the door lowered and she stepped into the inner parts of the crypt. She was able to look upon snow covered stairs and pillars before something struck her hard in the shoulder. She looked down only to find an elven arrow sticking out between her armor. She looked at Mercer in shock before falling to the ground, paralyzed. 

When she came to, her vision was blurry, tinted green as she watched a shadowed figure stalk down the stairs, as Mercer stood in front of her and what to her, seemed like guarding. 

“Do you honestly think your arrow will reach me before my blade finds your heart?” Mercer spoke in a deep, loud, vicious voice.  
“Give me a reason to try.” Karliah spoke and Nixie found herself intoxicated by the woman’s voice. It was soft, sweet but it still dripped with venom and hatred for the man before her. 

“You’re a clever girl, Karliah. Buying Goldenglow Estate and funding Honningbrew Meadery was inspired.” 

“To ensure an enemy’s defeat, you must first undermine his allies.’ It was the first lesson Gallus taught us.”

“You were always a quick study.” 

“Not quick enough, otherwise Gallus would still be alive.” Karliah’s voice was now melded with sorrow along with the unwavering rage. 

“Gallus had his wealth and he had you. All he had to do was look the other way.” 

“Did you forget the Oath we took as Nightingales? Or did you expect him to simply ignore your methods?” 

“Enough of this mindless banter!” He screamed, drawing his sword from his hip. “Come, Karliah, it’s time for you and Gallus to become reunited.” As he stalked forward, Karliah seemed to disappear yet her voice still echoed in the empty crypt. 

“I’m no fool, Mercer, crossing blades with you would be a death sentence.” Mercer sheathed his Dwarven blade and stalked back towards Nixie in her paralyzed, bleeding state. He smirked and crossed his arms. 

“How interesting. It appears Gallus’s history has repeated itself.” He laughed and shook his head, obviously enthralled by her current state of affairs, “Karliah has provided me with the means to rid of you and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place.” Had she been able to, Nixie would have screamed at the top of her lungs, drowned the both of them in fire but she was nothing but a body ready to become corpse. 

“But do you know what intrigues me the most?” Mercer questioned, as if she had the ability to answer, “The fact that this was all possible because of you.” He drew out his steel dagger, kneeling to the ground in front of her.

“Farewell. I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.” He smirked as his dagger pierced her side.  
***

The sky was dark, heavy clouds loomed above the spit ice and heavy snow flakes down to the earth. Nixie’s eyes opened to find a Dunmer girl looming over her. At first, her mind was foggy then it all came flooding back to her and she climbed up onto unsteady feet, her vision blurring as her head pounded. 

“Easy, easy. Don’t get up so quickly.” Soft, delicate hands steadied her and she found herself face to face with none other than the one and only Karliah. 

“Get off! You shot me!” Nixie shrugged her hands off of her, defaulting to anger, fire ripping up from her left palm. 

“No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out.” Nixie rubbed her shoulder, the spot covered in heavy bandages and was sore to the touch. “Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Karliah crossed her arms, her eyebrows furrowing at her fellow dark elf. 

“Why save me?” Nixie blurted out, confused by the whole course of events that had occurred in the last 24 hours. The woman she had intended to kill saved her, her Guildmaster had attempted to murder her and now everyone she now knew and cared for thought she was dead, lying in the same dusty, abandoned crypt as Gallus. Tears brimmed on the edge of Nixie’s eyes, something that rarely happened, let alone in front of strangers. 

“My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death.” Nixie felt angry, then suddenly very guilty. The tears that sat on the edge finally spilled over, slipping down her dirty cheeks. 

“Then I’m in your debt.” She muttered, rubbing her sore neck and feeling utterly guilty. Karliah scoffed, crossing her arms once more. 

“More than you’ll ever realize. The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect, I only had enough for a single shot.” She shook her head, sadness in her own eyes which were a deep, dark violet that made Nixie’s heart beat a little faster. “All I had hoped was to capture Mercer alive…” She sighed deeply and ran a hand down her face. Nixie looked up at her, rubbing the injury in her shoulder. 

“What do we do now?”


	16. Chapter 16

# Liliah

The sky above Riften was dark and filled with ominous clouds that poured heavy rain and cracked with thunder and white lightening. The normally sunny and cheerful land was shadowed by a storm that sent ships fleeing for the docks and the people scattering for their houses. Despite her house being sequestered below the docks, Liliah heard every drop of rain that fell, felt every crack of thunder within her heart. Her house was dark as she sat by her mother’s bedside, clutching her hand, feeling the life slip from her. Her mother’s voice was soft, barely even a whisper as her eyes refused to open all the way. Meekly, her mother turned her head and faced her daughter, jet black eyes nearly dead. It took her nearly a minute for her hand to reach all the way up and cup Liliah’s cheek, her fingers soft but feeling more like icicles on her skin. 

“Liliah...my darling...please don’t mourn me forever…” She was able to choke out, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks. Liliah sniffled, closed her eyes and her own tears made their descent. 

“How can I not? What will I do without you?” She choked out between sobs, her bottom lip quivering. Her mother chuckled for a few moments before coughing harshly, blood sputtering out of her parched mouth. Liliah dove for the mug of tea on the nightstand but her mother stopped her. 

“Please, Liliah, listen to me. The world is darkening and evil will begin to rise in many forms. I need you to be strong, you’ll play a part in the peacemaking.” Liliah said nothing, just whimpered with tears flooding her face. She clutched her mother's hand, feeling the life finally slip from her has her hand fell from her face. 

“I love you so much. Please don't go.” Liliah pleaded but it was too late, her mother had finally slipped from the realm of the living. The thunder above shattered above and resonated with the pained screams of Liliah who’s chest heaved with sobs as she buried her head in the covers of the bed. Outside the rain grew heavier, the wind kicked up, tearing holes into ship sails and ripping the signs and roofs of stores and booths in the market place.

# Gwenn

It had all been a set up. Gwenn had arrived in Solitude with a poison in her chef’s pocket, the Gourmet’s Write of Passage in her hand and confidence in her heart. When the so called Emperor was dead and she made for a quick retreat, she found herself surrounded by Penitus Oculatus and Commander Maro who told her that her Family sold her out and that she was going to die. She was able to escape but not without injury. Commander Maro dealt a nice swing, opening a slash across her face, one of his soldier’s piercing an arrow through her shoulder and another one cracked his mace against her hip. Stealing a horse from the stables, she booked it all the way back to Falkreath, leaving a trail of blood behind her as her stolen mare galloped the entire time. By the time Gwenn reached Falkreath, the sky was black and starless, the town itself crawling with Oculatus agents. From deep in the forest she saw smoke rising in giant blooms. If her heart hadn’t been festering with anxiety before it was now. 

When she found the sanctuary, she fell to her knees finding Festus crucified to the tree outside, his body burned beyond recognition. Smoke billowed from the broken Black Door and inside she could hear screams of those she had come to love. Rage replaced anxiety as she rose to her feet and drew out her blades, charging into burning sanctuary. Upon entry she watched two Oculatus soldiers slay down Veezera. She screamed as she threw one dagger, piercing a hole in one man's face, the other meeting a fireball that ripped from her palm and landed dead center in her chest. Stalking deeper into her home she found Arbjorn transform into a werewolf where he slaughtered three men before the fourth took him down. Gwenn took revenge for Arbjorn by lighting the fourth man ablaze. Rushing through the chaos she found Gabrialla dead near her alchemy table, the potions she spent so much time crafting, shattered on the floor. Through the Dining Room she found it destroyed, finding it to be the epicenter of the fire. She found Nazir fighting off two men with his scabbard, killing both with one slash. He nodded at her, finding no time for chit chat as he lead her through the burning wreckage. As Nazir began to fight against more Oculatus, an unearthly voice whispered inside her head, blocking out all other thought and sound. 

_“Listener...I am your only salvation...Come. Embrace me.”_ Gwenn looked to the left to find the Night Mothers room free of fire or smoke. She looked back at Nazir for a moment before sprinting into the room. This time there was no lock for her to pick, she simply threw open the iron doors and sealed herself into the tomb with her Mother. Her chest heaved with sobs as she heard steel clash against steel and crackled wood bend to fire. Loud crashing surrounded the coffin as the roof caved in and sent the iron tomb through the beautiful stained glass behind it and into the reflecting pool below.

_“Sleep...my child...sleep…”_

***

The Void was silent, black and filled with nothing. How lovely it felt to spend the rest of eternity as a servant of the Dread Father. 

“Hurry, Nazir! I’m telling you, she’s in there!” 

“I’m going...as fast...as I can, you stupid she-devil. I don’t see you...helping...”

“I’m not exactly built for manual labor. Now come on, you’ve almost got it!”

“One...more...pull...There...” 

“Can you get it open?” 

“I think so. Just hold on a moment.”

Gwenn’s eyes slowly opened, light peaked in through the cracks of the tomb and water dripped onto her forehead. Death had not dragged her into The Void just yet, Sithis still had plans for her, great plans. The Night Mother festered inside her head once more, speaking to her and only her. 

_“You must speak with Astrid, here in the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary”_

The doors on the iron tomb swung open and the light blinded Gwenn for a few moments before her sight cleared and she met the smiling, relieved faces Nazir and Babette. She stumbled out of the coffin and fell onto all fours, coughing and sputtering. Nazir helped lift her to her feet, his hands strong on her weak shoulders. 

“Woah woah woah! It’s alright, you’ve been through a lot...maybe you should sit down for a bit.” Nazir brushed wet hair out of her eyes and smiled sympathetically. Gwenn shook her head and coughed again, shaky hands gripping the front of Nazir’s shirt. 

“N-No I have to speak with Astrid. She’s here...in the sanctuary!” She choked out, tears streaming down her cheeks. Nazir couldn’t keep the surprise off his face and neither could Babette.

“She’s here? By Sithis I thought we’d lost her!” Gwenn pushed passed the two of them and up to the foyer part of the Sanctuary, finding it charred and blackened. A trail of blood led into the back room where Gwenn first dawned her Brotherhood robes. Inside she found Astrid, or what was left of her, surrounded by lit candles, the Blade of Woe, a fresh Nightshade flower and a slightly burned book. All three of them gasped loudly in disgust at the charred and burned to a crisp Astrid. 

“Al...ive….you’re alive...Thank Sithis…” Astrid’s words came in short rasps just like her breath. Gwenn fell to her knees, her chest heaving with sobs. 

“O-Oh my god...Astrid.” Terror filled her voice as she struggled to get words out. Astrid shook her head the best she could, some of her skin flaking off. 

“Shh...Please...There’s much....I have to say...And there’s...not...much time...I’m sorry...so very sorry...The Penitus Oculatus...Maro...He said by giving you to them...he would leave the Dark Brotherhood alone...forever! By Sithis I was such a fool! All of this...is my fault...You are the best of us...and I nearly killed you...as I’ve killed everyone else.” If she could have, Astrid would have began crying but Gwenn did for her. Anger melded with terror and grief. 

“You set me up to die? You traitor!” She screamed, setting her palms against still warm stone, tears flooding her cheeks. 

“Yes. I set you up. I wanted you dead. I betrayed you, the Night Mother and everything I hold dear...and now Maro has betrayed me. I just wanted things...to stay the way they were...Before Cicero, the Night Mother...Before you...I thought I could save us....I was wrong...But you’re still alive! So there’s still a chance! A chance to start over, rebuild. That’s why...I did...this. Don’t you see...I prayed to the Night Mother...I am the Black Sacrament!” 

Suddenly, Gwenn understood. The candles, the blade, the flower, the book. Astrid had put out a contract on herself. Astrid could see the hesitation in her eyes as Gwenn grabbed the Blade of Woe and held it in shaky palms. 

“The Night Mother was right...the old ways...they guided the Dark Brotherhood for centuries. I was a fool to oppose them. And to prove my....sincerity... I prayed for a contract. You lead this Family now. I give you the Blade of Woe, so that you can see it through. You must kill...me...” 

Gwenn nodded and scooted over on her knees, holding the shining blade chest height above Astrid’s heart. Anger took over, feeling betrayed and lost, lied to. 

“I may be the one to kill you, but Sithis will truly do the deed.” Venom dripped from her voice as she sent the blade deep into Astrid’s heart, scraping the ground underneath her. A cough sputtered from her throat as her eyes slowly closed. 

“Thank...you…” Were her last words as Gwenn withdrew the dagger and held it loosely in her burned hand. Standing on shaky feet she turned to Nazir and Babette who both had tear tracks down their cheeks, shock, anger and sadness all melded together into one on their faces. 

“Astrid...by the sands...I just can’t wrap my head around it.” Nazir finally choked out after a long silence. Gwenn pushed past both of them and back into the Sanctuary and over to the Night Mothers open coffin. She falls to her knees and begins to sob, loud screams ripping from her already raw throat, her hands digging into the blood stained dirt. The Night Mother's voice came to her once again, soft and comforting. 

_“Astrid is dead. It is as it should be. May she find redemption in the Void. But while you live, the Dark Brotherhood lives. We must fulfill our contract. Emperor Titus Mead II must be eliminated...Speak with Amaund Motierre at the Bannered Mare in Whiterun...he will know the true Emperor’s location...But first, inform Nazir of your plans. For you are the Listener...and must bind this Family together...”_

Nazir set his hand once more on her shoulder and she rose to her feet and turned to face him, a certain darkness etched on her face. She told him to take Babette and the Night Mother to the Dawnstar Sanctuary and that she would meet them there after she went to Whiterun.


	17. Chapter 17

# Eela

Light flooded in through frosted windows and split into beams that ran cross the floor and warmed Eela’s face. She sat in the War Council room, picking the dirt and blood caked under her nails and flicking to the wood below her feet. She was tired, sore and still smelled of blood, fire and sweat from the past 3 days battle and travel. She wanted nothing more than to strip of her armor right there and run for the water cabinet to scrub away the filth embedded in her skin. The door swung open and in swayed Ulfric, his heavy fur cape flapping behind him as the door clicked shut. Eela rose to her feet and smiled softly, her tired eyes showing some mild compassion. 

 

“What happened?” He broke the silence, his hands reaching out and cupping her face, it cold and frigid in his warm palms. She had arrived back in Windhelm at noon and sent one of her men to tell Ulfric she had seen something alarming while she congratulated and tended to the wounds of every single man and woman who came back with her. 

 

“We were passing by Helgen three mornings ago, the sun had barely risen and this giant, black winged creature flew from the mountains and began to burn the town to ash. None of our men were hurt but that….thing is still out there...the men seem to think it’s a dragon, even Galmar talks of tales of the return of the winged beasts.” Her eyes had slipped closed and as she talked, she felt Ulfric’s grip on her face tighten, the muscles in his fingers going taut. When she stopped, her eyes fluttered open and he had a look that flashed anger but held undertones of fear. He took a deep breath and kissed her forehead, lingering for a long time, feeling the warmth of her forehead. 

 

“Tall tales from Galmar are normal. Whatever that thing was, it probably will stay in the mountains which it sees as its territory. You’ll be fine but please, be safe.” He ran his fingers through her blonde locks, watching the sun shimmer off the strands which flashed them to stark white. She nodded softly and smiled confidently, her teeth flashing. 

 

“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” She boasted, setting her hands on her hips and tilting her chin up high. Ulfric chuckled and shook his head before crossing over to one of the tables pushed against the wall covered in papers and quills and ink wells. He filtered through a stack before plucking one up and placing it in her hands. 

 

“Here, I need you to head to Falkreath. The Imperials are holding a group of our men at their camp and I need you to free them. Can you do that for me?” He raised an eyebrow, hope glinting in his silver-grey eyes. She nodded softly, clutching the cold parchment in her hands. 

 

“Of course, my Jarl.” 

 

***

 

She set out as the sun was setting, cleaned of dirt and blood, in a fresh set of armor that sadly wasn’t going to be fresh for too long. She rode through the Rift and winded in the mountain pass, her eyes constantly scanning the sky in search of the winged terror she had spotted days before. It was almost night when she found a small band of her men outside of Fort Neugrad, one of her best men, Ralof, leading the group. She inquired about the fort, how many men were tucked away inside and what would be the best way for infiltration. Ralof and a few of the others mentioned a cave that exited into the nearby reflecting lake and lead into the fort. Dismounting her horse, she told them to wait for her signal, which would obviously be the yelling of other men. They nodded and wished her luck as she headed for the lake.

 

When she reached the edge, she fell to her knees as she pulled her Talos amulet from under her armor. Muttering a pray, she clutched the cold steel before climbing back to her feet, throwing her bag near the entrance of the fort with a soft thud. Eela then returned to the edge of the lake and took a deep breath before wading in. The cold water strangled her limbs, almost instantly sucking the heat from her body and sending her shivering. Once she began to tread water, her toes and fingers had gone numb, the icy tendrils of frigid temperatures beginning to slink their way up the rest of her body. She took a deep breath then dove under. 

 

A minute of swimming through a winding cavern dumped her out into the waterlogged basement of Fort Neugrad and as she came to the surface, she gasped for breath, her lungs burning with each inhale. With numb hands, she ripped her sword from it’s scabbard at her hip before walking up a set of winding stairs, the lit sconces mounted on the stone walls radiated heat in her direction. The stairs led her to the prison cells, all five holding a single man of hers with one guard half asleep at a table by the door. The soldiers looked up at her with light in their eyes as they all rushed to the gates of their cells. The guard looked up from his book and shot to his feet, unsteady in his stance as he tried to pull his sword from his back. Just as his blade began to slide forth over his shoulder, his head rolled to the floor.

 

Cheers and rattling of metal came from Eela’s men in the cells who beamed at her with pride. She stole the key from the guards pocket and set the men free from their confines to which they busted open the chest at the other end of the room and took up their arms before charging through the door and into the front of the Fort. She hadn’t even been that far behind and by the time she got out into the darkness, the stillness had been broken by her men, bodies of Imperial guards already littering the grounds of the Fort. She didn’t hesitate to join in, sending her sword slicing through flesh, the sound of tearing muscle, cracking bone and the terrified, pained screams of her enemies only fueling her attacks. 

 

It took less than 15 minutes for all of the soldiers to fall, her men breathless, bloodied and filled with gratitude. She called for Ralof to bring forth her trusty mare and he did, allowing her to take forth a brand new Stormcloak flag. Climbing the stairs, she ripped down the Imperial flag from it’s place fluttering upon it’s pole before tearing a torch off the wall and throwing upon the dethroned flag. It erupted into flames, burning fantastically as she began to fly the Stormcloak flag, claiming Fort Neugrad for her own army. She turned around and faced her men who stood below her, all looking up at her and the flag, the gold thread in it shimmering in the light given off by the fire at her feet. 

 

“My fellow brothers and sisters in arms. We have not only freed our siblings from the clutches of the Imperial’s but we have taken over their Fort for the greater good of Skyrim!” A loud eruption of cheering burst from the crowd below her and she reveled in it. They chanted her name and as she climbed down, her men engulfed her in their arms, proud of not only serving under Ulfric but under Eela as well.

# Nixie

Markarth was a hold in which Nixie attempted to avoid like the plague. Sadly for her, it was the only place in which she could find translations of the elusive Falmer language. So she braced herself and rode into the Reach, fresh wounds still healing. The city was filled with smoke, smelled of hot silver and the residents, like always, were the least friendly people she had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Nixie found herself inside Understone Keep, arguing with the court Wizard, Calcelmo, over whether or not she should be allowed to see the precious artifacts that had been pulled from the crumbling Dwemer ruins. At one point she nearly lit the Altmer one fire, her rage pushed over the brim. She then stormed out of the excavation site before breaking into the museum. 

 

As a child in Rorikstead she often spent her afternoons sneaking around the farms and the Inn, going unnoticed by the patrons and farmers for hours on end. Her 2 month long run with the thieves guild only strengthened her nearly God like ability to sneak. When the lock broke off of the double doors to the museum, she grinned madly before slipping into the room. Three guards stood watch in the center of the opening room, giving her ample time to sneak behind walls and near display cases. It took her nearly 20 minutes to get through the ruins of the museum, sneaking around guards or watching them meet their demise against the still active dwemer guardians.

 

By the time she reached the room that held the giant stone slab which held dozens upon dozens of translated Falmer words into the common tongue, her back ached and the spot in her shoulder where she had been shot radiated pain through her neck and arm. Grabbing a piece of parchment and charcoal from a nearby table where she also threw the bag of gold propped on the table into her pockets. She then returned to the translation tablet and proceeded to make a charcoal rubbing of it, easier than copying it down she realized. Right as she finished, the doors burst open, about 4 guards and Calcelmo himself waltzing into the place, calling for the thief to reveal themselves. Stuffing the writing into her pockets, she waited behind the stone until all the guards were marching up the stairs behind her. Slipping to the front side of the stone, she slowly slide down, hands gripping the ledge has her feet dangled close to the bottom. As the guards rounded the corner up the stairs into the second level of the room, she dropped to the ground and sprinted out, bursting into the bright day outside, her eyes stinging softly as she climbed over the ledge and proceeded to hang off rocks in an attempt to get down to the streets.

 

***

 

Nixie never rarely ever felt guilt or fear but as the carriage she took drew her closer and closer to Winterhold, her hands shook and fidgeted as her palms sweated, her heart beating hard against her ribs. She tried to rationalize that no one from the College ever came down into the town, her and Liliah were the only ones who ever ventured down for a drink at the Frozen Hearth, there was no way she was going to be stopped or recognized or accused of anything. Even if someone had ventured down to the Inn, they locals were always cold to the mages of the College, never indulging in any conversation or niceties. As she entered the Inn, she kept her hood drawn and her eyes down as she slunk to the back of the building, down the stairs and into the Cellar. She was met by Karliah and Enthir, one of her dear friends from her College days, when she was there she had no clue he was a Guild informant. Drawing down her hood, Enthir grinned at her, holding his arms open in a welcoming gesture. 

 

“So, how’d it go?” He questioned as Karliah stayed silent, her eyes never leaving Nixie. She dug into her pocket and handed Enthir the translation rubbing she had stolen, a soft smirk flickering over her face. 

 

“This should help translate that journal.” Enthir took it from her slender hands and his eyes scanned it.

 

“I suppose it would be inappropriate for me to ask how you obtained this, so I won’t.” He crossed over to the table behind him, laying down the paper and opening up the journal. Silence hung in the air as the seconds ticked by, Enthir carefully translating the last few passages in the tattered journal. Finally, he broke the silence. 

 

“This...is intriguing...but highly disturbing…” Karliah stepped forward as Enthir looked up from his quickly translated notes, “It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey’s allegiance to the Guild for months.” Karliah spun around the table to stand next to the Bosmer as his hands ran over the yellowed pages of the journal. 

 

“Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls an “unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.” Karliah looked over to the pages, a foreign language meeting her eyes. 

 

“Does the journal say where this wealth came from?” She questioned, eyebrows furrowed in questioning. Nixie hung back, watching it all unfold, a hate beginning to burn in her heart. 

 

“Yes, Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild’s treasury without anyones knowledge.” Enthir’s own eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he read more and more of the journal. Karliah’s hands twitched as she scanned the pages of a language she didn’t understand for answers. 

 

“Anything else, Enthir? Anything about…Nightingales?” She stammered out, her hands clutched together on top of her chest. Nixie had been told as a child that Nightingales were nothing but fiction, that they were nothing but tales made up to scare naughty little ones like her. She looked over to her Elven friends, her breath caught in her throat. 

 

“The last few pages seem to describe the “failure of the Nightingales” although it doesn’t go into great detail.” He flipped through the pages, eyes focused on nothing but the words in front of him. “Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher.” The terror on Karliah’s face was immense as her hand clutched her chest, her eyes fluttering shut. 

 

“Shadows preserve us…So it’s true?” He eyes opened back up, horror embedded in her violet eyes. Enthir slammed the journal shut and looked up at Karliah, his own eyebrows furrowed. 

 

“What is it? What’s Mercer Frey done?” He questioned, his voice filled with anger with the same fear that was implanted in Karliah’s eyes. The woman turned to face Nixie, the fear in her eyes transferring to her own. She reached over, slender hands clutching her shoulders. “We need to get this information to the Guild immediately.” Her grip was strong, aching the hole in her shoulder. Nixie’s eyebrows furrowed in pain and confusion. 

 

“But, Brynjolf thinks I'm dead.” One of her hands clutched at her chest, sadness in her crimson eyes. Karliah sighed and shook her head before looking back up at her. 

 

“We have to go back. We can do it, Nixie. Mercer’s crimes need to be brought to light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao sorry for not having updated in awhile, school has been kicking my ass B U T 
> 
> I am using this story for NaNo this year, so you'll get quiet a lot of updates. 
> 
> We've still got a lot to go lmao


	18. Chapter 18

# Liliah

It had stormed for two days in Riften, the river running through it had flooded, the winds had torn the signs from stores, the roofs from the selling stands. On the third day, the clouds had disappeared in the night, leaving the morning dry, sunny, warm. 

 

Liliah sat inside the Temple of Mara, her head bowed in prayer, her hands clutched together. She had buried her mother in the Hall of the Dead the morning after her passing, the ceremony was the next day when the sun had shone brightly, the wind blowing softly. She had called upon Nixie who was nowhere to be found, so she mourned her mother alone inside the Temple. Standing from her spot on shaky legs, she crossed over to the shrine, her hands placed upon the cold metal, taking a deep breath as she felt warmth tickle her finger tips. Her eyes slipped open, and connected with the metal, bronzed eyes of the Mara statue in front of her. She felt close to the Divine, the Goddess weeping just like she did. A soft smile wavered across her lips, her eyes softening as her demeanor calmed. She suddenly felt strong hands on her shoulders and she looked up to see Maramal above her, an unwavering grin plastered on his face. 

 

“Mara has taken a liking to you my child.” He told her as she turned around to meet him face to face. She rose an eyebrow at him, obviously confused. 

 

“You felt the calm wash over you, yes?” He questioned, a grin still spread across his lips. She nodded softly, her hands shaking together as she clutched them onto her chest. 

 

“That is a good sign my child, Mara finds your soul to be pure, innocent and filled with hope.” He kept grinning as her cheeks flushed red and a soft smile spread across her own lips. His eyes then lit up, his grin getting wider than she thought it could go. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen someone be accepted by our Lady so quickly. Would you be interested in becoming a Priestess and preaching about Mara’s Light?” He questioned, his eyes filled with hope like a child. 

 

Liliah’s heart pounded against her chest and her hands shook softly as thoughts tumbled around in her head. The College had no place for her now, she had been best friends with Nixie who they denounced and threatened. She herself had left with no warning, her spot having been filled by some other wide eyed, hopeful beginner mage. Her mother was gone, she had no spouse and no job to support herself. She then looked up at the Redguard man and nodded softly. 

 

“I’d be honored to join the Temple of Mara, Maramal.” She smiled at him and he nearly broke down in tears of joy at her acceptance. 

 

“Oh, thank the Eight.”

# Gwenn

Whiterun was sunny, warm and the day clear as the Stormcloak soldiers patrolled the streets which had been cleaned and rebuilt after the battle that had taken place. While the day was nearly perfect, as Gwenn walked the streets, coldness followed in her wake. The cheerful smiles and greetings faded as those who laid eyes on her were filled with sudden terror. She had not changed clothes since the burning down and fighting that had filled her old Sanctuary. She was covered in dirt, in blood, in soot. Healing wounds were visible through the tears in her clothes and her hands had been burned in the fire. While her wounds were horribly visible, she kept her face hidden from those around her, all covered except her hardened eyes. 

 

When she threw open the doors to the Bannered Mare, the entire place fell silent as all 15 people inside turned their heads to look at her in horror, an uneasy feeling filling up the place as she stalked her way to the back room. The chatter and songs resumed as she opened the door to the private room, finding Amaund Mortierre sitting in his chair, reading a book. He sighed loudly, placing his mark in between the worn and yellowed pages. 

 

“What is it? I said I didn’t want to be...disturbed...” His face went stark white, his eyes widening as he looked upon the girl he had been notified was dead. 

 

“Sithis is due a soul. Wouldn’t you agree?” She spoke in a low growl, her hand resting on the hilt of her dagger, her sapphire blue eyes were now as dark, blackened with hate and anger.

 

“By the gods. You... you're alive! But I had heard... your Sanctuary... Please! You mustn't think I had anything to do with that! I wanted the Emperor dead! The true Emperor! I still do! It was Maro! He..." He stuttered, fear coating his voice as he dropped his book. Gwenn loomed over him, one hand pressed against his chest while the other hovered over her hilt. 

 

“The Emperor...the real one…” She hissed, her eyes narrowing, a scowl obvious beneath her mask.“Where is he?” Mortierre looked surprised and squirmed underneath her touch. 

 

“You mean after all that's transpired, the Dark Brotherhood will still...honor the contract? Why, this is astounding news! Wonderful news! The Emperor is still in Skyrim.” He exclaimed, clasping his hands together, smiling nervously. “But not for long! He's aboard his ship, the Katariah, moored offshore in the Solitude Inlet. But you must hurry! If you can get aboard that ship. Kill Titus Mede II, as contracted...I will reveal the location of the dead drop that holds your payment.” Gwenn nodded and turned on her heel, leaving his room and him to catch his breath, relaxing from the fear she had instilled in him. 

 

***

 

She reached Dawnstar by nightfall, the snow falling heavily and the wind blowing harshly. She found the Sanctuary warm and filled with light when she walked in. Laughter emanated from below as she heard Babette and Nazir jest with each other. She reached the stairs, passing by the new platform where the Night Mother sat. The last two members of her Family smiled up at her from the dining area below. They had already begun to clean up the place, the giant hole in the wall was covered up with a large dresser for the time being, the two of them setting at a long dining table. They both waved at her and she waved back as she dragged her way through the sanctuary, trying to remember where the bedrooms were. After 10 minutes of wandering she found them and pushed open the door into the Master, finding it cold and holding little. Ignoring the empty and dusty bookshelf and dresser, she climbed atop two stairs onto a raised platform that held a bed with a feather filled pillow and a wool blanket. Sighing deeply, Gwenn collapsed onto the mattress, kicking off her boots and running her hands down her face. Slinging her bag off, she pulled out an old tavern dress, stripping of her half ruined armor, tossing it to the floor. She then pulled forth a roll of bandages and began to finally tend to the half healed wounds covering her body. 

 

“Come in.” She called out, throwing the roll of bandages to the side. The door slowly creaked open as she stood shakily, stepping down from her bed platform. Cicero stepped in, grinning madly at her. She gasped as he made his way over to her. Gwenn began to cry as she flung herself into his arms, embracing him tightly. He jumped in surprise before embracing her back, rubbing her back as she cried into his shoulder. They stood like that for a handful of minutes before she pulled away, sniffling. Cicero wiped away the stray tears from her cheeks, a soft smile on his face. He grabbed her hand and dragged her over to the bed where they both sat, Cicero grabbing the roll of bandages. Gwenn pointed out her injuries and then went into explaining what had happened, breaking into tears more than once as she relived the last few days. Once done she sat in silence as Cicero bandaged up the large gash on her back that stretched from her left shoulder blade to the dip where her spine met her hips on the right side. She turned to face him, crossing her legs over one another and smiling softly. 

 

“I’ve missed you a lot Cicero,” She admitted, brushing a few locks behind her ear. Cicero smiled back at her, grabbing her burned hands softly, intertwining their fingers together. 

 

“Cicero has missed you a lot too, Gwenn.” He scooted closer to her, setting his other hand on her cheek. Suddenly, Gwenn couldn’t take it anymore. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into a kiss, melting into it immediately. He pulled her up into his lap, gripping her hips as she ran her hands threw his ginger locks. They stayed connect for what felt like eras before Gwenn broke away, a few tears slipping down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead against his. 

 

“Promise me you’ll never leave me.” She sniffled, looking deep into his amber eyes. Cicero nodded, moving his hands from her hips to his cheeks, cupping them softly. 

 

“Promise.” She smiled and giggled, pulling away and wiping away her tears. Her soft smile broke into a mad grin as she climbed off of him and began to lace her boots back on. 

 

“Cicero, I have an important contract and I want you to join me.” She stood and grabbed her bag and bow, slinging them both of her shoulders. 

 

“What’s the contract?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow and standing as well. Gwenn set her hands on her hips confidently. 

 

“Let’s go kill the Emperor.”

# Eela

Dragonsreach was warm, filled with light and new members who ran the city of Whiterun. Eela had returned to her newly conquered Hold on her way back from Falkreath, to check in on how the city and its residents were taking to the new ruling. She sat in the Jarl’s Quarters with Vignar Gray-Mane, an older man but wise with his years and highly respected among the townsfolk. Just as they were getting down to business, Brill, the new steward came bursting into the room, out of breath and obviously terrified. 

 

“My Jarl! There’s been a dragon sighting at the Western Watch Tower.” Eela shot to her feet along with Jarl Gray-Mane, fear banging in both of their eyes. 

 

“What? How?” They both questioned, stalking over to the young man. He held his hands up in defense, then shaking as he spoke. 

 

“A guard came running up from the Watchtower, said it was burned down. You can see the smoke in the city. My Jarl, what should we do?” Eela and Vignar both looked at each other, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Eela opened her mouth to speak but Vignar cut her off. 

 

“Eela, roundup the best men you have, go and fight the winged terror. Talos be with you.” 

 

As her feet drew her closer and closer to the city barracks, her heart beat got more sporadic with every step. She gathered 10 of the guards from the barracks before heading down to the Western Watchtower, black smoke billowing in the distance. As her and the men approached, the ruins of the Tower came into view. The bridge had been split, the top of the tower crumbled onto the ground. The grass around was burning softly, smoke rising up into the blue sky. The men walked around carefully, each step calculated beforehand. A man came running out from the ruined building, frantic, covered in blood and soot. 

 

“Watch out! The dragon is still here, in the mountains!” Just as he stumbled down the broken walk way, a loud, thundering roar came echoing from the mountain pass to the West of them. All eyes shot up to look at the sky as a giant, winged terror came into view. The dragon was ginormous, it’s wings spiked, the colors of it’s scales sparkled in the sunlight, the onyx black hue sparkled with ruby flecks. The beast’s beauty was fantastic but it’s ferocity was grand. It spit flame down on her men, igniting more of the dry grass of the plains. Arrows pierced it’s hide as the archers fired tirelessly while the dragon circled the Watchtower. Suddenly, the terror landed, the ground shaking underneath it’s massive size.

 

Men swung at its legs, its tail, its wings. Eela, in the rush of battle, rushed towards the head of the dragon, swinging her sword, catching the dragon in the eye. It roared at her and snapped its massive jaws, letting her catch sight of its ivory teeth slathered in blood. She kept swinging, catching the beast more and more in the face while her men pierced away at it’s sensitive flesh. The horrific monster reached back and roared, before snatching one of her men in it’s massive jaws and ripping him apart. Just as the beast murdered one of her men, Eela found the dragon’s neck exposed and swung her sword in one last effort with all her might and the dragon fell down, it’s head half severed. 

 

Cheers erupted from the remaining 9 men, the dragon’s blood pulsing out and creating a giant puddle that flooded the signed grass and wet their boots. As Eela began to calm down from the rush, the corpse in front of them began to burn, the skin shrinking, falling apart into ash and flooding into the air. Colored waves of light began to spin upwards and towards Eela, surrounding her in hues of red, blues, greens as a warmth began to fill her. Confused, her men began to gasp and back away quickly until moments later when the dragon was nothing but a skeleton in a pool of blood. 

 

“By Talos! You’re….you’re Dragonborn!”The men looked around frantically before kneeling in front of her. The words they spoke struck her right in the heart. As a child, she had been read Nord stories, of tales long ago when dragons roamed the earth and of the people known as Dragonborns, who tamed them with their dragon souls. She looked upon the set of bones and the kneeling men in front of her, her eyes swelling with tears.

 

***

 

Her return to Windhelm was tiring. Eela returned her men to the gates before climbing atop her honey colored mare and riding all the way back to her home. She rode through the night, her mind racing with a million thoughts as the stars shined above her head, the auroras dancing in the darkened sky. As she pushed through the doors of her city, the stone beneath her feet shook as a loud booming cracked through the sky. The people across Windhelm looked up to the sky, the word “Dovahkiin” echoing through the air, leaving everyone confused, chattering among themselves as she made her way into the Palace of the Kings. 

 

She ran up the stairs, bumping into Ulfric who was also racing through the halls of his Palace in an attempt to find her. They embraced each other before pulling back and opening their mouths to speak before Ulfric closed his, allowing her to tell her story first. Her eyes swelled up with tears and she broke down, sobbing into his chest. 

 

“Oh, Ulfric, it was terrible. This beast, came from the sky, it breathed fire and was a bigger than 100 men! I was horrified.” His large hands stroked up and down her back, his warmth seeping into her clothes, warming her cold skin. He pulled her back, wiping away her tears, his hand cupping her chin. 

 

“What happened after that?” His eyebrows furrowed as he searched her icey blue eyes for answers. She sniffled, sliding her eyes shut as she began to relive the battle from two days past. 

 

“I took 10 men down to the Western Watchtower of Whiterun. We found it destroyed and suddenly, this dragon came swooping down. The archers took a great deal of strength from it. When it landed I saw it bite one of the men in half.” She then placed her head in her hands and sobbed, her shoulders shaking. Ulfric wrapped his arm around her and led her back to their living quarters, closing the door behind him. He sat her down and knelt in front of her, setting his hands on her waist. 

 

“What else, Eela, please, what else?” He asked, begging to get the rest of the story from her. She took a few deep breaths, the only sound in the room was her shaky breath. She finally calmed down and looked down at him, her eyes rimmed red, her face streaked with tears. 

 

“I...I delivered the final blow, nearly beheading the monster. We all cheered and then suddenly, it began to catch on fire, it’s skin turning into ash as magnificent light filled the air. It all rushed towards me and I felt a warmth and the men fell quiet. Moments passed at one of them called me Dragonborn.” Ulfric shot to his feet and pulled her with him, wrapping his arms around her, completely enveloping her. 

 

“You heard it, yes? The booming as you entered the city?” He rested his chin on top of her head which he felt nod a yes. He closed his own eyes and took a deep breath. “Those were the Greybeards, they were summoning you to High Hrothgar. It means, you’re Dragonborn.”


	19. Chapter 19

# Nixie

She had never once dreaded walking into Riften, until then. Her and Karliah rode the same carriage to town, both stepping down from it and walking into the city. Those who saw her gasped, feeling as if they were watching a ghost. Nixie prayed that Liliah would be there to see her, to comfort her, yet her childhood friend was nowhere to be found. Every step she took made her heart beat a little faster, her chest tighten a little more, her entire body shake more harshly. When her and Karliah stepped down into the Cistern from the graveyard entrance, Nixie felt like she was gonna drop dead from fear, just fall into dust. As her feet touched the ground and she turned to see Brynjolf, Vex and Delvin standing in the middle of the Cistern on the raised platform, all with swords drawn. Her stomach rolled over upon itself, ready to get rid of the nothing inside of it. As Karliah stepped down behind her, Nixie turned her head halfway to speak. 

 

“Let me do the talking.” She slowly stepped forward into the light of the Cistern, Karliah following behind. 

 

“Nixie, you best have some damn good reason being here with that murderer.” There was malice in Brynjolf’s voice, hatred in his expression along with the other two beside him. 

 

“Bryn...please...put the weapon away...all of you…” Her voice was quiet, her eyes threatened to tear up as her words shook out of her mouth. 

 

“I have proof you’ve all been mislead, please listen to her.” Called Karliah who stepped into the light, clutching Gallus’ journal lin her hands. The three before them looked at Nixie before slipping their daggers into their sheaths. 

 

“No tricks, Karliah, or I cut you down.” Growled Brynjolf as the two Dunmer girls stepped closer to the group, Nixie’s knees weak, every step shaky. “What’s this so called proof you speak of?” Bryn crossed his arms, face still carved into a scowl. Karliah stepped in front of Nixie and flipped through the worn journal in her hands. 

 

“I have Gallus’ journal, you’ll find the contents disturbing..” She handed the open journal to Brynjolf, the whole group falling silent as his eyes scanned the page, his frown deepening…

 

“It...can’t be…” He closed the journal and shook his head. “I’ve known Mercer too long.” Karliah took the journal from his clutches and nodded softly. 

 

“It’s true. Mercer has been stealing from the Guild for years, right from under your noses.”   
The next few moments flew by in a flash but it seemed to drag on for a lifetime. Delvin and Brynjolf both used their separate keys to open the vault, only to find it empty. The horror that came in the form of screams, gasps and curses lasted for minutes as all 5 of them found every single piece of gold, every gem and jewel, every priceless item to be gone from the vault. Vex pulled her sword, fury raging like a fire in her eyes as she threatened to murder Mercer. Brynjolf, like always, was the voice of reason. He preached for calm, rationality only for Delvin. to agree. It took a few moments of hesitation but Vex finally slipped her sword away before Brynjolf sent her and Delvin to guard the Flagon. He then grabbed Nixie’s wrist and led her back into the Cistern. She looked up at him with sad eyes as he stayed silent until he got to one of the few secluded corners around. He then turned and embraced her tightly, pressing her to his chest. 

 

“I thought I’d lost you. Mercer told me Karliah had killed you, that you were dead.” She pulled away and shook her head softly. 

 

“Mercer is the one who tried to kill me. Karliah saved me from death.” She then proceeded to strip off her chest armor, unbuckling belts and undoing loops until the leather fell to the ground, leaving her with her bandaged torso and her breast band. She pointed to the small circular wound on her shoulder. 

 

“This, was from the arrow tipped with poison that saved me,” She then undid her bandages to reveal a gash that wrapped around the back of her waist to the front of her stomach that was large and half healed, still bloody. “This is what Mercer dealt me.” Brynjolf's eyes widened and he embraced her again, his voice shaky. 

 

“I knew I should have never let you go alone with him. By the Nine, Nixie, I’m so sorry.” He ran his fingers through her short white locks, resting his head on top of hers. She buried her face into his chest, comforted by his warmth and scent. He smelled of honey, of oak, of spice. Nixie looked up at him and smiled softly, her hands reaching up and resting on his shoulders. 

 

“I’m just glad to see you again.” He chuckled and brushed a piece of hair behind her pointed ear, smiling softly. 

 

“Me too lass.” They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments before Brynjolf broke away and bent down, handing her back her chest piece. “Put this back on. I don’t like sending you out again so soon, but only you can do this.”

 

***  
Mercer Frey’s house was right next to the graveyard and close to the entrance of Riften. Nixie rounded to the back of the estate to find a young man named Vald. She waved him over, smiling at him. He met her at the gate, told her that he wasn’t supposed to talk to people and that she wasn’t supposed to be there. She then grabbed him by the front of the shirt, smashing his face against the metal bars of the gate before she grabbed her dagger and sent into through his ear. He convulsed against the fence before going limp and falling to the ground. She dug the key from his pocket, swinging open the gate before having to shoot down the secret ramp that she then climbed before breaking into the house. 

 

It was bright yet cold and dusty inside as well as deathly silent. First, Nixie drew out her dagger as she crept around the upstairs to find it empty of life. After finding the coast clear, she then pocketed anything of value. Gold sacks, a few jewels, books, anything she could find a use or value for, she threw into her knapsack and pockets. Then, she began to destroy everything else. She set tables and chairs on fire, split things in half, tore up rugs. If it wasn’t in her bag, it was burned or frozen, somehow it was destroyed.She then descended through the house, repeating the same technique of stealing and destroying. As she opened up a wardrobe, light flooded through a small crack at the top of the bag. Smirking, Nixie stood on her toes, slipping the blade of her dagger through, wiggling a little bit before it slid back, allowing her to slip through the false back and into the hidden part of the manor. 

 

It lead her down a set of stairs, the entire hidden part of the house dim and dusty. To her left was a desk and a few dusty crates which out of spite, she burned and broke before carrying own down the large tunnel. Dripping sounds echoed a ways down, gates filtering light as she followed the winding ways to wherever it took her. She soon came upon pressure plates, chuckling at the thought of Mercer thinking that pressure plates would stop her. Her eyes traced the simple bath free of spouts and standing on her toes, her fleet feet sprinted her across to the other side, not a single plate triggered by her steps. A single plate sat in front of her which she quickly jumped over before carrying on. As she reached an opening, giant blades swung from the walls, the edges sharp and glinting with danger. She watched for a minute or two, memorizing the rhythm of the trap before being able to slip through unharmed.

 

Out of the way of all the traps, Nixie descended down stone stairs and was met with an unlocked door. Furrowing her eyebrows, she searched the side of the door before finding the rope trigger that would snap when she opened the door. Flattening against the wall, her finger snapped the rope and she watched small needles shoot down to the ground, tipped with poison intended to strike her. When the last one fell, she kicked open the door and sauntered in. 

 

A desk, a display case and a bookshelf were all that were in the room. She slipped over to the display case first, finding it locked and holding a beautiful enchanted glass sword. Impatient, she lifted up her elbow and smashed through the glass. She then pulled out the sword, flipping it around in her palm a few times before sheathing it at her side. Peaking over to the desk, she found two books, one of which was a copy of the Lusty Argonian Maid which she edged off the table and to the ground. She threw the gold, the note, the gems and the necklace into her pockets before looking to the map laid out. On it was a red dot somewhere in the mountains. She rolled up the map, sticking it into her bag before looking upon a bust of someone but it looked valuable. She stuffed it under her arm and then exited the room and down the hall and another set of stairs. She threw open the door and found herself in the Ratway. Confused, she kept along the wall and to the door at the end of her sight. She threw it open and emerged into the Ragged Flagon. Her eyes widened and she then sprinted into the Cistern to find Brynjolf.

# Gwenn

The Katarina was moored off the coast of Solitude, just near the Ghost Sea. The sky had just began to brighten, the sun barely peaking over the horizon. Normally, Gwenn would sneak upon the ship, stick the shadow to seek out the target and only the target. This day would hold no such thing. Her and Cicero climbed upon the ship and began the slaughter, working as a tornado of destruction as two dozen men fell to her blades before she was able to break into the inside of the ship. Few men stood in her way as she crept through the halls and up the stairs, anyone who did come to her found her blade in her neck. She ripped the gold from the men’s pockets, the wedding rings off their fingers, the blades from their sheaths. Coming upon the door to the Emperor’s Quarters, she tore the keys from one of his guards pockets, unlocking the door and throwing it open so it slammed against the wall. 

 

Across the room sat an older man dressed in elegant robes, he stood slowly from his seat, hands placed flat on the desk in front of him. Gwenn stalked across the room until she stood an arm's length away from the real Titus Mede II. As she went to drawn her dagger, he smiled at her, waving a hand at her. 

 

“And once more, I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him you couldn’t stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could.” He shook his head, still smiling before waving her over, as happy as a man waiting for death could ever be. She stood frozen in her place, hand still half wrapped around the hilt of her blade. 

 

“Oh, come now, don’t be shy. You haven’t come this far to stand there gawking.” He waved her open again, his arms wide open and welcoming. Slowly, she approached him until she stood by his side, still cautious. 

 

“You were...expecting me?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice if she had tried. He smiled, clasped his hands together and then nodded. 

 

“Of course! You and I have a date with destiny. But so it is with assassin’s and Emperors, hmm? Yes I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It is simply the way it is.” He shrugged his shoulders before clearing his throat and going on. “But I wonder...would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?” His eyes were filled with melancholy, his eyebrows furrowed. Gwenn crossed her arms over her chest before sighing exasperatedly and nodding. 

 

“I thank you for your courtesy.” He ran a hand down his face, through his hair before taking a deep breath and smiling once again. “You will kill me, and I have accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain....ambition...So...I ask of you a favor. An old man’s dying wish. While there are many who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion.” Gwenn groaned loudly, rolling her eyes before nodding, obviously growing impatient. 

 

“This person...whoever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery...Once you have been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me this kindness?” He smiled sadly at her, his question hanging in the air. Gwenn smirked behind her mask, her hand flying to the hilt of her dagger and pulling it out in one swift motion. In a matter of seconds, the Emperor’s hand was twisted behind his back, his neck exposed. Gwenn leaned forward and whispered softly in his ear. 

 

“As you wish…your majesty.” The Emperor nodded, a single tear racing down his cheek as the cold metal of her blade met his throat and swiftly sliced it open. She let go of him and he fell forward onto his desk with a loud thud, blood quickly oozing onto the already darkened wood. 

 

Gwenn quickly sheathed her dagger before bursting out of the door and onto the bow of the ship. Her heart seemed to skip a beat before she launched off into the waters below. The freezing water seeped into her armor, numbing her skin, cutting through to the bone as she swam for the docks of Solitude. Climbing up the docks and up the wooden stairs, she spotted a man coming down the same steps, passing her. She whipped around to look upon Commander Maro. Pulling out a rag and dousing it with a paralysis poison, she snuck down the stairs and as he turned his back, she wrapped one arm around his neck, pulling her against him before covering his mouth with the rag. For a few moments he struggled before going limp. Gwenn threw the rag into the ocean, letting the current drag it down stream as she dragged Maro into one of the small row boats and riding across the bay. Rowing as far into the swamps of Morthal as she could, she found the old abandoned cabin where her whole journey had begun. It took all of her strength to drag the hulking man inside where it smelled of death in it’s purest form, dried blood from months ago still caked to the walls and floor boards. She left him in the middle of the cabin as she locked the door before climbing atop the same bookcase Astrid had. Letting one leg dangle over the side, she had the Blade of Woe clamped in her right hand. It took awhile for Commander Maro to come to again, sitting up slowly and groggily, groaning as he did so. He shot to his feet and screamed, looking around for his sword which she had discarded outside. 

 

“Who...where...What is going on?” He yelled, fear seeping into his eyes as he looked for an escape. She smirked and hopped down from her spot on the bookshelf, stalking over to him. 

 

“What...don’t you remember me?” She taunted him in a sing song voice, lunging at him with her dagger. He slid to the side a little too late, her blade catching him in the shoulder. 

 

“Who are you? What do you want?” He screamed, trying to dodge her attacks but failing as more and more of her blade bit into his skin. Soon, the gallant man who had lead his armies against her had fallen to the ground as he gasped for breath. She set her foot against his chest, pushing down slowly as his gasping becoming heavier and heavier. Slowly, Gwenn lifted off her cowl, letting her soft brown locks free to hang around her delicate pale face. 

 

“Remember me now?” She smirked as fear amplified in his eyes, giving her nothing but satisfaction as she drove her dagger down in between his eyes. 

 

Soon, Commander Maro’s body was floating down stream, the last moments of fear still glazed in his eyes as the waters of the Ghost Sea drifted him closer and closer to the Katariah which held the body of the Emperor he fought so hard to protect.


	20. Chapter 20

# Eela

She spent most of the evening soaking in the bath, scrubbing dirt and blood off of her body in one tub and then hopping into the other, floating in the mix of mint and lavender and mountain flower for near two hours. When she finally emerged from the now cold water, she found her way back to her room, donning a gown of dark blue velvet and brushing her hair out until it looked like molten gold, flowing down her back like a river of sunlight. She then wandered around the castle, aimlessly waltzing up and down the halls until she looked out a window to see nothing but black, hear nothing but the ice ticking against the glass. She then found herself back in her chambers, Ulfric nowhere to be found so she laid out her armor and sword at the foot of their bed before climbing in. The blankets were heavy, one wool blanket packed between two soft ones made of wolf fur. Cuddling down in the blankets, her head rested against a fluffy down pillow as her eyes stared up at the blue and golden canopy above. Her last thought was of the mountains as she drifted asleep.

 

In the morning she woke to find herself wrapped around Ulfric, their limbs tangled together as her hair was splayed across his chest like waves of sunshine. It took a while before she was free of his grasp then she threw off her night dress, strapping into her armor before braiding her hair tightly and attaching her sword to her hip. As she crept down the stairs, she took the way down to the Council room which she found empty, the early dawn light flooding into the windows as papers laid strewn across the tables. Her hands sifted through parchment until she found a sealed letter with her name on it. Tearing it open, she read it to find out that Galmar had needed her help in Markarth, he needed her to persuade one of the Jarl’s men into surrendering the city to them. Smirking, Eela threw the letter into her satchel on her hip before nearly sprinting for the stables. She found the carriage driver and the stable hand as they were emerging from the house near by as she flew down the stairs before hopping onto her honey colored mare and speeding off. 

 

It took her two days of riding nonstop to get to Markarth. The city air was heavy with smoke and the smell of silver. People glared at her as she strutted up the stairs to Understone Keep. The Thalmor representatives who passed her hissed at her, their eyes hard and untrusting as she made her way back to the stewards quarters. Rifling through the drawers and under the bed and through the dresser, she tried to find something of substance for blackmail. It was in the wardrobe she found an engraved Talos amulet. Grinning from ear to ear, she snatched it up and headed for the Jarl’s throne. All she did was smirk and flash the amulet and a man called Raerek came tumbling down the stone steps, gripping her wrist and nearly dragging her back to his quarters. Eela just smiled and said a few sly words and he easily gave up the location of Fort Sungard as well as a cache of weapons and supplies being transported by Imperial troops. 

 

The sun was setting when Eela made it to the camp in the rolling mountains of Markarth. Most of them men were huddled around the fire as she strutted into Galmar’s tent. He chuckled and grinned as she stood next to him, handing him a piece of parchment with the location of the Fort and the supplies. He ordered Ralof and a few other men to assist her in taking hold of the supplies to which they eagerly followed. 

 

The Imperial men and their carriages filled with supplies were huddled out in the open, right next to the major road that led to Markarth. Eela barely broke a sweat taking down those men and stealing their supplies, it was like child’s play to her. The real fun came when she returned back to the camp only to find Galmar ordering the rest of the men to follow her to Fort Sungard. When the reached it the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon, the clouds that filled the sky half gray and half white as her and her men stormed into the Fort and began slicing the heads and limbs off of men. An urge began to rise in her chest as she fought against soldiers, her blade coated with Imperial blood. An instinct to shout, to yell as her blade cut through skin, muscle, bone. As the last man faced her, she finally gave into temptation and a shout rose from her throat and out of her mouth, her voice booming as a gust seemed to fly from her lips and push the man back. He stumbled and fell back, his foot slipping off the edge of the wall and he plummeted to the ground below, landing with a sickening crack. Her men had stopped fighting and stared at her, with gaping mouths and wide eyes. From the back of the crowd, she heard it again, a phrase that made her hands shake, her knees go weak, her heart pound. 

 

“By Talos! You’re…you’re…Dragonborn!”

# Nixie

Karliah had told her to come dressed light, bring nothing but herself and her weapons before giving her a location in the mountain range behind Riften. Nixie followed orders, dressing in nothing but tavern clothes and the new sword she had stolen from Mercer’s estate before heading down the road. It was close to autumn in Riften, the trees beginning to change color and in the early morning light, it was beautiful. The scenery as she walked down the cobblestone path took her mind off of the past few days events and calmed her always anxious and irritated soul. The sunlight dancing in between the leaves and branches of the changing trees, the soft breeze that always blew through Riften was a little chillier. As she followed her map, the setting around her and its hold on her emotions seemed to fade as her footsteps brought her deeper into the mountain range which obscured the sun and left her cold and shaking. She came across large stone structures and soon, she was near a cave entrance with detailed carvings surrounding her. Not long after that she spotted Brynjolf and Karliah standing near the door, both dressed in simple clothes like her. They all exchanged smiles before Karliah spoke. 

 

“This...is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We’ve come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey.” Her voice was filled with venom when his name came out of her mouth. Nixie nodded softly before crossing her arms over her chest. 

 

“What kind of edge?” She questioned, raising an eyebrow. Karliah just smiled at her softly before giving her half an answer. 

 

“If you follow me, I’ll try to explain on the way.” The smile on her face turned into more of a smirk and Nixie grinned back. 

 

“Am I to become a nightingale?’ She questioned, still grinning as her hands flew from her chest to her hips. Karliah sighed softly before nodding. 

 

“It’s my hope that you will.”

 

She led her and Brynjolf through the mountain pass, light filtering in from deeper within. Soon they found giant pillars cut from the stone as large fire pits popped up along the way. It wasn’t long after that until they came across a large open cavern complete with running waterfall and wooden bridge. Nixie gasped as Brynjolf chuckled before raising a question towards Karliah. 

 

“I’m trying to figure this out and I just can’t seem to do so. Why me? I’m not religious, I sure as hell ain’t a priest.” He stated plainly as they crossed over the bridge and deeper into Nightingale Hall. Karliah just shook her head and kept on walking. 

 

“It’s not religion, Brynjolf. It’s business.” The answer sent a bit of a chill through Nixie’s spine as they walked past dusty tables, beds and dressers half knocked over and destroyed. They then took a turn down another hall jutting out which three short square statues with the Nightingale symbol stood with moth eaten banners hanging above. 

 

“Go and touch the stones and you’ll get your armor.” Nixie took her place at the stone as the other two did, placing her hands upon the freezing stone which chilled her fingertips, running up her hands and to her elbows as she slid her eyes shut. Suddenly, a weight fell upon her body and her eyes flashed open to find that she had been dressed from head to two in beautiful, black armor that hugged her body better than her own skin. She looked up and over to her friends, both decked out in the same armor. 

 

“Good, you two appear ready for the Oath.” That statement made Brynjolf step back and hold his hands up in defense. 

 

“Woah, woah. I appreciate the armor but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed.” His voice wavered with unsureness as he shook his head. Karliah sighed and set her arms on her hips. 

 

“To hold any HOPE of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal on our backs. If she is to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck.” Karliah told them before turning on her heel and stalking into another adjacent room. Nixie and Brynjolf looked at each other before nodding and following behind. They soon came across a raise platform in the middle of the water which budded off into three more platforms all which held the Nightingale symbol. Karliah guided Brynjolf to right and her to the left as she took her spot in the middle. She watched she took a knee and began to pray until a giant ball of light came flooding in which then hovered over the main platform. Out spoke a voice that was so angelic it hypnotized Nixie. The words that were spoken by Nocturnal herself held no meaning but the sound of her brought tears to Nixie’s eyes. This was her calling. She finally found something to spend the rest of her life doing. It wasn’t the College or owning an Inn or running a shop, it was being a stinking rich thief and serving Nocturnal the best she could. For minutes, Karliah and Nocturnal conversed back and forth until she stood and held her hands out wide towards her and Brynjolf. That’s when Nixie came back to and she finally took in the words spoken in the air around her. 

 

“Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms. We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honor our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met.” Silence then hung in the air for what seemed like a lifetime as Nocturnal went silent until after Nixie was sure she was going to throw up, she spoke. 

 

“Very well. I name your initiates Nightingale and I restore your title to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I suggest you refrain from disappointing me again.” Then the light in the room seemed to explode as a warmth filled Nixie’s chest as Nocturnal blessed her and left, leaving her feeling enlightened.


	21. Chapter 21

# Gwenn

Whiterun was again bowed down to her darkness, a cold air following in her footsteps as once more, she burst forth into the Bannered Mare. This time the patrons inside paid no mind to her as she stalked her way to the back room. This time she found Amaund Mortierre dining at the table when she entered. He wiped his mouth with a napkin before rising, a wicked grin crossing his thin lips. 

“Ah ha! You’re back!” He clapped his hands together and stepped forward to stand in front of her, still grinning. Beneath her cowl she smirked before she finally took down her hood, letting her chestnut locks flow out and letting Mortierre lay eyes on her face. 

“The Empire lays with the Dread Father now.” Her voice was low and gravely as she spoke, watching a light sparkle in Mortierre’s eyes. 

“I know! I know! I received the news not moments ago! Ha ha. This is glorious! My friend, you may not realise it, but you have served the Empire, indeed all of Tamriel, in ways you can not possibly imagine. Ah, but you care little for politics, am I right? You want money! And money you shall have!” He spun around and dug his hands into the knapsack sitting by the table, drawing out a letter and handing it to her. “Your payment waits for you at a dead drop. It is inside an urn, in the very chamber we first met, in Volunruud. Now please, go. Collect your money, and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded.” He reached forward and shook her hand, her grip strong as she shook back. He then pulled back but she didn’t let go, instead she yanked on his arm, spinning him so his back was pinned against her chest. In a matter of seconds her dagger was out of its sheath and the tip of her blade was positioned against his chest, right above his beating heart. 

“No...no…” He thrashed around in her grasp in an attempt to break away, “I thought we had a deal!” He cried out, still struggling against her. She chuckled lowly as she leaned her chin atop his shoulder, whispering in his ear. 

“The deal is done…” She whispered softly before thrusting her blade through his chest so hard, she heard the arteries in his heart split, the bone in his chest crunch as the tip of her blade peaked out of his back, poking against her own chest. After she retracted her dagger, she left him in a pool of his own blood. She then ransacked his room, stuffing gold and jewels into pockets, stuffing books into her back, even finishing off his dinner before slipping her cowl back on and leaving the Inn for the stables.

# Eela

Immediately after her victory in Markarth, she headed for Morthal to intercept Imperial information. Eela had been tasked to track down an Imperial courier, obtain the letters in his possession, forge and change them and then deliver them to the General within Morthal. The messenger was slain by an arrow piercing his throat a few miles outside of the swamps of the small town. She quickly ran to the body, disrobing him and taking his armor for her own, In the left pocket of his chest piece she found a letter addressed to the general. Tearing it open, her eyes skimmed it as it called for an immediate dispatch of extra troops to help evade the encroaching Stormcloak army. Quick fingers tore apart the letter before she left it to drift in the wind as she carried on down the path, tucking the fake letter into her pocket. 

It was nearly dawn when she reached the town, the swamps foggy and humid as the morning light clung to the horizon. Eela wandered up the wooden steps to the Highmoon Hall where she found the Imperial General waltzing down the stairs, rising early to get started with his day. She saluted him as he reached the bottom of the stairs and began to lie through her teeth. 

“General, I have a letter from Fort Snowhawk,” She dug into her pockets, pulling out her fake letter and handing it over. 

“Thank you, soldier.” He nodded as his calloused hands ripped open the letter. His dark eyes scanned the words on the page, his dry lips mouthing along to the words he read. 

“No reinforcements, huh? That’s good. Now, why don’t you go ahead and get yourself a drink, soldier. You must be tired.” She nodded before saluting again and turning on her heel. A malicious grin cracked across her face as she burst out of the Hall and down the stairs. 

With her fake message given to the General, Fort Snowhawk felt abandoned when her and her men laid siege upon it. It almost left her with a taste of dissatisfaction in her mouth as the men who met her blade were few in numbers, the silver of her sword not as nearly tainted with Imperial blood as she wanted it to be. A young man named Ralof came up to her after the fighting was done and the looting was half way through. 

“Aye, General, the flag is hung, the men are filling their pockets with coin and jewels, what orders do we have now?” It took her a long while as she stared down from the top of the fort at her men ripping the necklaces and coin sacks from the dead men, their bodies limp like fallen tree limbs.

“Burn them.” Her voice was terrifyingly calm, unwavering and strong as she spoke. Ralof let out a soft “huh” as his eyebrows furrowed, his hands twiddling together as he looked upon her

“You heard me. I said burn them. Their bodies, their flags, the inside of their fort. Leave nothing but the stone walls.” 

When her and her men left the fort with their swords coated in blood, their pockets lined with wealth and pillars of smoke at her backs. 

 

***

 

When she returned to Windhelm, her armor smelled of smoke and rotten meat. As usual, her first instinct was to take a bath and she did just as such, spending her normal amount of time soaking, letting the warm water soaking into her pores, her eyes focused on the stone ceiling above. When a knock came to the door there were moments of splashing as she pressed her body against the wall of the tub before answering. 

“Come in!” She shouted, shaking her wet hair out of her eyes. Slowly one of the maids opened the door and smiled at her apologetically. 

“I’m so sorry, Eela, but the Jarl asks to see you, now.” She shifted nervously and Eela nodded, letting the girl slam the door shut and run off, the sound of her nervous feet carrying her down the hall echoing. Climbing from the bath, she changed into her velvet robe and climbed the stairs to her chambers, candle light illuminating her features as she passed the scones. She found Ulfric pacing the room as she entered but he quickly crossed over to embrace her. His hands ran through her still wet hair as she pressed her forehead into his chest. They both pulled back and he spoke first. 

“I heard Morthal was a success.” He stated, his hands moving down from her shoulders to her hands, entwining their fingers together. She nodded softly, staring down at the floor, hearing the soft drip of water fall from her hair and onto the stone floor. 

“I’ve also heard from the men that...you’ve been...Shouting.” He lifted her chin up, forcing her to look at him, his blue grey eyes dark, filled with emotion she couldn’t quiet back out. Her eyebrows furrowed as his thumb caressed her cheek. 

“I don’t yell at any of my men...I have no clue where any accusation of that would come from, I can’t belie-” He clamped his hand down over her mouth to keep her quiet as he felt a fire ignited inside of her chest. 

“No, Eela, I mean like...how the Greybeards do…How I do...” He looked at her with a hard expression and she broke away quickly, crossing her arms over her chest, as she spun around, her feet squeaking against the wet stone floor.

“We are not talking about this again!” She harped at him as she crossed the room before she flung herself down into one of the wooden chairs in the room, frowning at him. He sighed and shook his head, sitting across from her. 

“Eela...you can’t just ignore your summons from them! The dragons have returned and you’re the only one who has killed one. You need to go, this is fate.” He told her, leaning across the table to grip her hand. She shook her head and wiggled her hand out of his grasp. She then stood, her hands slamming hard against the table as her head hung low. She took in a deep breath before looking up, her eyes dark, expresion hard with a certain fury and determination.

“I’ll climb those 5,000 steps when there isn’t a war being fought”


	22. Chapter 22

# Nixie

Irkngthand was an old, crumbling, half destroyed Dwemer ruin out in the mountains that hugged the border of Dawnstar and Whiterun. Nixie hated the cold and such an expedition required her to pack light. After her ritual at Nightingale Hall, she returned to Riften in her exquisite armor where she kept her new blade, Chillrend, on her hip with her knapsack filled with bread, apples and as many magicka potions she could get her slender hands on. She then headed out on a chocolate colored mare she had bought for only 500 coin after she had intimidated the stall hand so bad he nearly cried. When the ruins were in the distance, she unmounted her horse, tied him up to a tree, left him with a sack of apples and continued on foot. 

 

When she came upon the ruins, the snow was beginning to fall and fall heavily, the wind blowing against her harshly. When she entered underneath the crumbling stone towers and bridges, she felt an arrow nearly graze her face. Her eyes shot up to see an archer posted high up in the towers. Shouting filled her ears as other bandits came rushing down for her, all wielding swords, axes and maces of different sizes and makes.

 

It didn’t take long before the bandits who rushed towards her were on the ground, burned and cut by her hand. It took a good while for her to figure out just how to make it up to the entrance of the ruin all the way up at the top and nestled in the mountains. Nixie found the ladder which led up to the crumbling bridges which then led her to wooden bridges and ladders that took her all the way to the door step of the ruins of Irkngthand. 

 

When she entered she found dead bandits in the pit in the middle, a fire still blazing on. Inside the ruin all was quiet as Nixie stepped down, her eyes exploring the buildings around her made of stone and Dwemer metal which after all these years still glistened in the light. Nixie’s numb hands picked up stray potions and coins from the floor as her footsteps echoed through the halls. She crouched on the floor for a few minutes, her hands so close to the fire she could feel the flames lick at her fingertips in an attempt to warm them. Then she carried on down the hall and deeper into the ruins. Back in her College days, she was sent out with expedition teams who dove into the crumbling caves and sanctuaries of the Nords but never had she experienced the Dwemer and their ancient buildings, nor their guards. As she turned the corner to head down a set of stairs, she heard three loud thunks, leading her to whip around to spot Dwemer Sphere’s beginning to unfold themselves from their own confines. They were at least 6 feet tall and golden, as their dull blades for arms swung at her. Two of them nearly sliced her chest open as she turned and began to sprint down the stairs. 

 

She lost them after she sprinted down the stairs and found a gate which she promptly slammed shut before shoving nearby scrap metal into the bars to keep it from opening. Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to watch as pillars raised from the ground and began to spin before spitting flames out. A loud groan escaped her lips, already feeling exhausted and irritated as she began to cling to the walls and giant piles of debris that laid scattered around her. As she climbed over a pile of dusty stone work, she burst through another gate which lead her through a long, darkened hall before sending her to the left where she found a blocked off gate and path as well as an open archway which held a giant platform surrounded by gears, a lever in the middle of it stood to take her downwards. Her eyes scanned around her as she came to the decision that the only way through the rest of the ruin, was down. 

 

After yanking potions off of a nearby alchemy table, she stepped forward onto the platform and reached down, yanking the lever. It snapped back quickly, and dust fell around her as the gears began squeaking with each turn, lowering her into the ruins. Nixie pulled off her hood as the stone and gears carried her deeper into the Dwemer buildings, wiping sweat from her brow. It was soon that she was back on solid ground, facing Karliah and Brynjolf in their Nightingale armor, exactly as her own. She smiled at the both of them as she stepped off the platform and approached their position guarding a door. Her smile was not returned, or at least, she couldn’t tell if it had been as Karliah approached her elegantly. 

 

“Mercer’s been here, I just hope we aren’t too late.” Her voice wavered with fear and uncertainty and Nixie was sure it was in her violet eyes even if she couldn’t see them. “We have to catch up to him before it’s too late.” Nixie nodded, looking to Brynjolf for a few seconds before turning her attention back to Karliah. 

 

“I’m ready to get him.” Her voice carried malice deep inside of it when she spoke, a hunger inside of her to have Mercer’s blood dripping from her blade, from her fingertips, fear instilled in his eyes because of her. Karliah nodded softly, glancing at the door behind her before back to her partners.

 

“We need to tread carefully, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s left a few traps for us.” 

 

The entire time they traveled through the ruins of Irkngthand, Mercer Frey was in sight for the most of it, driving Nixie insane. She watched as he clung to shadows, manipulated the world around him to bend to his will. All three of them were getting irritated with how close he was to them, yet how far he seemed. They fought blind Falmer, giant spiders, poisonous Chaurus and when they finally reached the last door to Mercer, Nixie thought she was gonna faint from excitement as she fantasized about the horribly ways in which she would kill him. 

 

When the slipped through the doors, It took all of Nixie’s strength not to gasp at the beautify before her. A gigantic statue, larger than she thought things could be, towered into the sky. It was solid bronze and while the ages had faded some detail away, it was still obvious that the huge monument was a replica of the long forgotten Snow Elves. Two glistening diamond eyes sat embedded in the metal and Nixie watched as non other than Mercer Frey clung to the head of the statue, carving the diamonds out of the skull and shoving them into the knapsack strapped to him. Karliah’s voice brought her back to reality. 

 

“He hasn’t spotted us, quick, Brynjolf, watch the door.” Nixie stood on the ledge of the platform as Karliah and Brynjolf hugged the archway that held the door. Karliah nuded at Nixie’s shoulder, whispering frantically. “Climbdown the ledge, see if you can”

 

“Karliah when will you learn you can’t get the drop on me.” Mercer Frey’s voice boomed through the cavern as he climbed down the statue and down the set of stairs that wrapped around the magnificent creation. Suddenly, the cavern began to shake violently, boulders dropping from the ceiling and the platform Nixie stood on crumbled, dropping her to the floor. If she had the time to think, she would have screamed but her brain didn’t seem to register quickly. Karliah and Brynjolf yelled for her, calling her name as their peered over the cracked edge, fear on both of their faces as she looked back up. Mercer began to talk again and this time, his words of hatred and malice were targeted towards her. 

 

“When Brynjolf brought you before me I could feel a sudden shift in the wind and at that moment I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade.” Nixie had shut out all sound, her mind hanging on to each word Mercer spoke as the pipes above cracked and collapsed, spilling water to the floor, flooding the cavern. 

 

“Give me the Key, Mercer!” Her voice echoed through the cavern, matching the same anger and malevolence that was held in Mercer’s words. He scoffed, laughing hard as he made a descent down the stairs. 

 

“What’s Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honor? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn’t care about you, the Key or anything having to do with the Guild.” He shouted at her, his face hard and twisted. 

 

“My devotion to Nocturnal and the Guild have nothing to do with this. This is between you and me, Mercer!” She felt anger rise in her chest, a heat burning within her very soul. Mercer once more scoffed as he drew his sword from his hip. 

 

“Then the die is cast and once again my blade with taste Nightingale blood.” He rushed at her, sloshing through water that still poured in but began to pool and had risen to ankle deep. Nixie grasped her own sword, frost twinkling from the blue tinted blade as Mercer swung his own to meet hers, metal singing in the air as the both began to fight each other. Nixie’s nimble feet took her up the stairs, around falling boulders and through rising waters. For awhile nobody landed a blow until the blade of Mercer’s sword bit into her shoulder. She stumbled, falling back and onto the ground, fear flashing into her eyes as Mercer stepped forward to tower over her. 

 

“Goodbye, Nixie.” He smirked and swung his blade up and he would have killed her. Had she not found the strength to roll to the left and struggle to her feet. He growled in irritation and stalked towards her, swinging madly in frustration. As his sword grazed her hip, the anger inside her chest swelled to such an immense level that a scream ripped from her throat and suddenly, a cloak of fire surrounded her, burning Mercer’s arms as he drew back. Darkness filled her eyes as she began to swing madly with Chillrend, catching Mercer off guard one moment that left him without a hand, sending him tumbling down the stairs before he landed on flat ground, the water lapping against his forehead as defeat flashed in his face. Fire still swirled around her like a shield as she raised her sword, laughter rising in her chest.

 

“The die is cast and now, my blade will taste traitor blood.” A grin of darkness spread across her lips as she drove the tip of her blade through Mercer’s chest, watching as the fear of death flashed in his eyes and reflected the last moments she brought upon him. Stealing the knapsack from his body, the water was rising quickly, reaching close to her hips now as another pipe burst above her head. She watched as Karliah and Brynjolf hopped down from the broken platform and into the water. There was no time for words as the water began to rise faster and faster to the ceiling. Their escape came in the form of falling boulders that opened a pathway and as soon as the water rose high enough, they were able to climb through and out into a cave that allowed them refuge. Climbing to their feet they all looked around, tearing their hoods down and sharing glances, smiles slowly crossing their lips. Nixie was the first one to speak. 

 

“It’s over….it’s finally over…” She embraced Brynjolf quickly, both of them sharing laughs and as they looked up at each other, happiness on their faces, Karliah spoke up. 

 

“Not yet...there is something else that needs to be done before this is truly over.”

# Gwenn

Volunruud was just north of Whiterun and as she rode on Shadowmere, the closer she got brought a storm of emotions inside of her chest. Nostalgia from her first visit to the dusty crypt, anger towards the past and what her initial visit had brought down upon her and a giddiness in her chest as she imagined the 20,000 gold waiting for her inside some ancient urn tucked away in an even older ruin. The halls of Volunruud were as quiet as she had remembered, her footsteps echoing on for what seemed like centuries as she dove deeper and deeper. The door she had entered months ago to meet Amaund Mortierre was ajar, an old yellowed urn placed in the center of the room. A grin grew across her face as she entered the room and slipped off the lid to reveal huge sacks of gold, bursting at the seams all tucked away. It took her awhile to hall the gold out of not only the urn, but the ruin itself. Each bag seemed to weigh 5 pounds as she tucked one away in her bag, shoved one under each arm and then struggled to keep her grip on two more as she took slow steps up the stairs that seemed so few in number when she had descended them but now seemed to stretch on and on. When she finally got out and back to Shadowmere, she was sweating, painting, her face red from exertion. She stuffed the gold into the saddle backs on her stead before climbing on herself and tugging on the reigns. Her stallion gruffed a response and slowly began to trot down towards the stone path. 

 

***

 

It was dark when she made it to Riften but she was determined to get her things that day. She struggled through the city with her sacks of gold, huffing as she passed by guards who gave her less than polite looks and sneers. It took her twenty minutes to get to the Ratway and another twenty to get to the Ragged Flagon. By the time she reached the bar, she was sure she was gonna faint from exhaustion. She somehow found the will to drag herself and her coin to the tables nearby where she found Delvin Mallory, a tankard in one hand a book in the other. Her looked up to greet her and she dropped her sacks of gold at his feet before collapsing into the chair beside him. 

 

“Well, this is quiet a greeting. You’re Nixie’s friend, ain’t ya? Gwenn, is it?” He set his book down and sat up straight. She nodded breathlessly, still huffing away, sweat beading down her forehead. He chuckled and passed her his cup filled with mead which she graciously took, chugging it all down, mead dripping down her chin as she pulled the tankard away. Delvin chuckled once more as she took a deep breath and smiled at him. 

 

“I am and I need to ask you a favor” 

 

When she left, her pockets were at least 25 pounds lighter as the only gold lining her satchels and knapsack was 5,000 gold. It was pitch black outside when she rose from the Ragged Flagon, the stars above twinkling, auroras dancing in hues of green, blue and purple. The deal she had made with Delvin was that she paid for a redecoration of the Dawnstar Sanctuary and he see it through. 15,000 golden septims had paid for upgraded bedrooms, specifically the master, a garden and alchemy station, a secret entrance, a torture room and a new altar for the Night Mother. That night Gwenn paid for a room at the Bee and the Barb, sleeping until sunrise when she left for Dawnstar. 

 

It was a three days ride for her home and she hoped and prayed that by the time she returned, the renovations would be done. Something about Delvin told her that wouldn’t be a problem yet she was still anxious. When she came upon Whiterun for the night, as she passed by the Western Watch Tower, she saw it to be destroyed, crumbled to the ground and obviously black with soot from a fire. She also spotted a gigantic skeleton, larger than anything she had ever seen, the skull sporting giant teeth sharper than any blade and wings that spanned at least 10 feet. Her heart pounded as she rode the rest of the way up to the stables where she dropped off Shadowmere before continuing into the city. As made her way to the Drunken Mare, she heard talk of the skeleton she had seen beyond the city, the soldiers whispered of dragons and some girl from the Stormcloak army who was supposedly dragonborn. Gwenn went to bed that night with her mind filled with great winged creatures roaming the sky. 

 

Once more she woke at dawn, mounted her steed and rode through snowy mountains and forests, hoping to make Dawnstar by night fall. When she did ride into town, she found her wish had come true. Upon entry of the Sanctuary, she felt a strange fluttering in her heart as a warm glow radiated from deeper inside. The descent into the place didn’t feel as drafty as before and her heart began to pound with excitement. As she turned the corner, she found her Sanctuary beautiful and outfitted with everything she had paid for. To her right stood the Night Mother’s coffin on a raised platform surrounded by brand new banners with the black hand sewn into them. To her right was a small garden fit with bushes and flowers and mushroom towards the bottom all surrounding an alchemy table and large bookshelf to house ingredients and potions. As she descended down the stairs, she found the unsightly hole in the wall was covered with a beautiful stained glass portrait of sithis, a replica of the one that had hung in the other Sanctuary. A long dining room table sat in the middle, a roaring fire nestled in a fireplace. Turning the corner, she passed under the bridge and trotted past rooms that were bright and filled with brand new furniture. She found her own bedroom to be filled to the brim with new and amazing items. A new bed sat upon her raised platform, a mannequin to the left outfitted with her tavern clothes. A small table and chairs sat adjacent to it along with more bookshelves filled with books, blank parchment and quills and potions. 

 

She found Babette, Nazir and Cicero in the brandnew torture room, sweeping the floors and setting up the restrains on the wall. She entered and knocked softly against the wooden door frame. All of their heads shot up and smiles flashed across all of their faces. 

 

“Welcome home, Gwenn.” Nazir and Babette greeted in unison as Cicero dropped the leather belt in his hand and flew across the room to embrace her, spinning the both of them around in glee. 

 

“Gwenn!” He screeched, happiness plastered on his face as he planted kisses all over her face. She giggled which was met by laughter from Nazir and Babette as her and Cicero finally came to a stand still. When they pulled away, her face was bright red from embarrassment. Ignoring the last few moments, she stepped deeper into the room. 

 

“I see Delvin works fast.” Her eyes roamed around as Babette finished setting up the restraints against the walls. Nazir nodded, turning towards her. 

 

“They just left an hour before you arrived, they came and went like a storm.” He still kept a grin on his face as Babette joined the rest of them. Tears swelled in her eyes as she looked upon her closest friends, happy and cheerful in the midst of a new and improved sanctuary. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she pulled all of them into a hug, sobbing against their shoulders as their arms wrapped around her.


	23. Chapter 23

# Eela

With control of Falkreath, Markarth and Morthal, the only hold that didn’t bow in allegiance to the Stormcloaks was Solitude, the place of the most Imperial power. They had called in troops and supplies, prepared for the inevitable siege on their city. As they stood ready for any sight of blue on the horizon, Eela, Ulfric and Galmar had to plan carefully. They had decided that the only way they were going to win was to collect every single man and woman they had at their disposal. The day they began to trek up to Solitude, a sea of blue clad soldiers met outside of the stables, around 500 men and women in arms were there to win this war for Skyrim. Eela and Ulfric had prepared in separate rooms that morning, both wishing for silence as they donned their armor, strapping belts and buckles into place, tying cloaks around their necks and sheathing their weapons against their hips, their backs. Eela had left before him, making her way to the stables where Galmar had been since the dawn, pumping up the men for the looming chaos to follow. When Eela was spotted by the troops, applause and cheers erupted, deafening her in an ocean of joy. When it finally died down, the sound of the wind and the howl of nearby wolves seemed to burst like thunder in her ears. She then felt a strong hand on her shoulder and understood why her troops had fallen silent. Ulfric stood behind her, the serious look that was always etched on his face seemed deeper and more grim than normal. Galmar once more brought the crate for her to stand on and helped her onto it. She began to reminisce over her first command, remember the measly 50 men she lead to take down the walls of Whiterun who were lost in the crowd of 450 more soldiers. A smile cracked across her face as she stood up tall and cleared her throat. 

“My brothers and sisters in arms, today is the day we begin our march to Solitude to win this war.” Another round of applause echoed in the air but this time it died quickly out of respect for the words that came from her. “Think now, of how far you and this Rebellion have come. A spark of resistance bloomed into a full out war and this act of defiance is about to free our land from oppressors!” Cheers erupted and died in the blink of an eye as Eela finished her speech. “As we travel to Solitude, keep your wits about you, your thoughts with your friends, family, fellows soldiers and most of all with the dream we have created. The dream of a free Skyrim.” Scrapping her sword free of its scabbard, she rose it high above her head and yelled to the crowd which echoed her words of

“For Ulfric!”  
“For Talos!”  
“For Skyrim!” 

***

The gates of Solitude weren’t barricaded in any sense of the word. The Stormcloak army marched all the way up to the front doors of the city where not a single man resisted them. As troops from afar launched balls of fire over the city walls, Ulfric gave his very own speech which didn’t reach Eela. While she stood next to him, her eyes were on the gates as her heart hammered so hard against her ribs, she thought it might burst forth from her body and roll away. Her hands clutched the hilt of her steel sword which glistened in the early dawn light, the sun not even visible in the sky yet. When the roaring cheers and battle cries exploded in her ears, Eela knew that the battle had begun. Two men ran up and threw open the doors, allowing her and the troops to run through, meeting Imperial soldiers on their own land. 

Her and Ulfric fought side by side, meeting the brunt of the red clad Imperial soldiers first. The ones who skipped them only fell into a sea of blue, their screams echoing through the city. Shouts ripped from both of their throats, sending men flying backwards as they sliced into flesh, kicked down barricades and made their way for Castle Dour. With the city smoking, burning, the troops took care of most of the Imperial men who wanted to stop Ulfric, Eela and Galmar from entering the military castle. Their attempts failed and somehow, the three of them pushed into the Castle. When the steel doors closed, the sounds of the fighting being waged outside dimmed to a whisper, like the walls around them silenced the bloodshed beyond it. Inside they were met by none other than General Tullius and a tall, blonde woman by the name of Legate Rikke who stood in front of Tullius, guarding him. 

“Ulfric, Stop.” She called, her voice hard, deep and aged. Her armor and face signaled she had seen years of war, of battle.

“Stop what? Taking Skyrim back from those who’d let her rot?” A certain rage filled his voice which was normally calm and balanced. His face had twisted to reflect the anger within his heart towards the Imperial Legion. 

“You’re wrong, Ulfric. We need the Empire, without it, Skyrim will surely fall to the Dominion.” Legate Rikke had skipped over the anger and had resorted to bartering. Eela pitted how quickly she had given up the fight. Galmar stepped forward, the Old Bear angrier than the 7 hells below. 

“You were there with us. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that treaty, is the day the Empire died.” He growled, his eyes narrowed in hatred toward the woman in front of him 

“You’re a damn fool.” Rikke shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with sorrow and defeat. 

“Stand aside, we’re here for the General.” Galmar barked, taking another step forward, Rikke matching by taking a step back towards Tullius. 

“He’s given up, but I have not.” Some fight suddenly returned to Rikke as she straightened her back, standing tall before turning to look at Tullius. Ulfric then stepped forward, replacing his axe at his hip. 

“Rikke, please, go. You’re free to leave.” He urged her, some compassion rising up, something that wouldn’t happen again. Rikke scoffed and turned around, planting her hands on her hips. 

“I’m also free to stay and fight for what I believe in.” She growled, determination rising in her face. Ulfric shook his head and sighed, his compassion disappearing. 

“You’re also free to die for it.” He barked, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. Ulfric gripped the hilt of his axe, drawing it from his hip again as Rikke stepped back once more, lifting her greatsword from her back. 

“This is what you want? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart?” Tears were apparent in her eyes as Galmar sighed heavily. 

“Damnit, stand aside!” He yelled, his face growing red with anger. Rikke just shook her head as Galmar drew his own axe. 

“This is not the Skyrim I want to live in.” With that, the fighting began. Tullius sprung forth from his chair, drawing his own blade and beginning to swing. Three versus two fought against each other. Rikke and Tullius swung against them as they stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the blows from their enemies, singing steel echoing through the walls of the castle. When Rikke swung against Eela, she was forced to dodge and break away, leaving her to fight the Legate by herself, Galmar and Ulfric still focused on Tullius. Rikke’s great sword came swinging down, barely scraping Eela’s left side, allowing her to bend down and swing her blade in an arc, biting into her armor and into her flesh. The Legate stumbled backwards, sword only clutched in one hand as she looked upon Eela. Grinning, she stalked forward, her blade swinging this way and that, slicing deeper and deeper into her until she fell backwards, her blood seeping onto the ground. Behind her, steel still sung as she dove her sword deep into Rikke’s heart, her last moments of terror still fresh in her eyes as she pulled her blade up. 

When Eela turned around, Tullius was on his knees, blood dripping from open wounds and onto the stone beneath his palms. He panted heavily and looked up and at the soldiers towering over him. 

“Enough...Enough…” He coughed out, tears streaking their way down his cheeks as blood trickled down his lips. Ulfric chuckled, the blade of his axe positioned above his neck. 

“This is it for you, any last words before I send you to Oblivion?” He questioned, his eyebrows raised. Tullius choked down a sob along with blood. 

“You realize we’re not the bad guys here.” He struggled to get out, his arms shaking beneath him. Galmar laughed heartily, shaking his head in amusement. 

“Maybe, but you’re certainly not the good guys.” Ulfric looked up from the man wallowing at his feet to Eela. She stood with her sword clutched in her hand. Blood was smeared across her face, her armor, it dripped from the blade in her grasp and her boots. He smiled proudly at her, pride beaming in his eyes.

“Just kill him already and get it over with!” Yelled Galmar, growing impatient that Tullius still kept his head upon his spine. Ulfric chuckled and shook his head, in good spirits despite the horror around him.

“Come now Galmar, where is your sense of the dramatic moment?” He grinned at him, patting him on the back. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“By the Gods! If it’s a good ending to some damn story you’re after, perhaps you should let Eela do it.” He waved a hand toward the girl in front of them and she looked up, her eyes wide. 

“Me?” She questioned, her hand resting upon her chest, blood smearing over more of her armor. They both nodded and she looked down at her sword, pulling it up to shoulder height. 

“Eela, do you want the honor?” He gestured to the already half dead man at her feet. She smiled sweetly and nodded. Standing with her feet shoulder width apart, she lifted her sword above her head and swung it down, ripping, tearing and cracking echoing through the halls as General Tullius’ head rolled away towards the table he had sat at not even 10 minutes prior. Silence lasted for a few moments and they had realized the sounds of battle outside had ceased. Ulfric sheathed his axe before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Should we round up the men?” He looked to Galmar who was wiping the blood from his own blade before neatly placing it against his hip. He shook his head and chuckled before looking up, 

“They’re probably already there. I did have some of my own men go and round up Elisif for you.” Ulfric nodded before looking over to Eela who was fixated on the headless man still oozing blood at her feet. 

“Eela, come now, it’s time for our victory speech.” She looked up as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, leading her out into the courtyard. 

Close to all of the 500 men they had traveled with survived and had packed themselves into the open yard outside of Castle Dour but with the number of them, they flooded out of the gates, all around the walls as they struggled to hear the victory words of their leaders. When the three of them took their place at the front of the crowd, it erupted once more into the deafening applause that left Eela’s ears ringing. At the front of the crowd she spotted Lady Elisif and her frightened Court members huddled together as hundreds of men and women shouted in victory and utter euphoria. It took what seemed like years for the cheers to die down as Eela stood at Ulfric’s right side, Galmar at his left. When the crowd fell silent, Eela stepped forward, her voice echoing on and on. 

“I, Eela Harik, your commander, now present to you, Ulfric Stormcloak, hero of the people, liberator and High King of Skyrim!” Like always, the crowd cheered and hollered in affectionate praise for the three leaders in front of them and it took a life time for them to calm down again but once they did, Ulfric stepped forward and cleared his throat. 

“I am indeed Ulfric Stormcloak and the woman at my side some of you know as Stormblade or Bone Breaker or Ice Veins. Whatever her title maybe, she is going to earn a new one. For on this same day 6 months from now, she will join me at the Statue of Talos outside of my city of Windhelm and no longer will she be Eela Harik, but Eela Stormcloak.” 

It was like someone had hit her square in the chest with a mace, but instead of unwavering pain emanating through her body, it was absolute and utter adoration as her eyes lit up like the stars. The deafening screams from the crowd seemed like a million miles away as she kept her eyes focused on the man next to her. When he continued, it was almost like the soldiers in front of her had died with how quickly it fell into silence. 

“Indeed, there are many that call us heroes. But it is all of you who are the true heroes! It was you who fought a dying Empire who sunk its claws into our land, trying to drag us down with it. It was you who fought the Thalmor and their puppets who would have us deny our gods and our heritage. It was you who fought your kin who didn't understand our cause, who weren't willing to pay the price of our freedom. But more than that, it was you who fought for Skyrim, for our right to fight our own battles... To return to our glory and traditions, to determine our own future!” A few claps and shouts came from the crowd, but most hung onto every word that left Ulfric’s lips, thirsty for praise and knowledge of what came next. 

“And it is for these reasons that I cannot accept the mantle of "High King." Not until the Moot declares that title should adorn my shoulders will I accept it.” Boos came from a few people but many shouted Elisif’s name in wonder of the Jarl of Solitudes fate as she stood with fear in her eyes, her Court advisers whispering quickly in her ears, hands running down her shoulders. 

“Yes, what about the Lady Elisif? Will she put aside her personal hatred for me, and her misplaced love for the Empire and their coin, so that the suffering of our people will end? Will she acknowledge that us sons and daughters of this land will be those who determine Skyrim's future? Will she swear fealty to me, so all may know that we are at peace, and a new day has dawned?” These questions hung heavily in the air as all eyes turned to Lady Elisif. Clutching her hands to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut, shaking in her place as she worked up the courage to speak. 

“I do.” Her answer stammered out between her lips and when her eyes opened, she was met with a sea of smiling faces, content with her answer. 

“Then it is settled. The Jarl will continue to rule Solitude, I will garrison armies here to ward off Imperial attempts to reclaim the city. And in due time, the Moot will meet, and settle the claim to High King once and for all. There is much to do, and I need every able bodied man and woman committed to rebuilding Skyrim. A great darkness is growing, and soon we will be called to fight it, on these shores or abroad. The Aldmeri Dominion may have defeated the Empire, but it has not defeated Skyrim!” With that, the crowd broke away and began to march out of the courtyard of Castle Dour, cheering and chanting as Galmar patted Ulfric on the back before joining the ocean of blue clad men and women, celebrating their hard earned victory. Eela turned to Ulfric who softly smiled at her, a tiredness etched on his face but was being driven out by a proud look that crept into his eyes and lips. 

“So it’s true, we’re to be married?” She had hope dazzling in her eyes as she looked up at him and he just chuckled, setting his hands on her shoulders. 

“Yes, we are, but before that is to be done, there is something I ask of you, Eela.” She looked puzzled, her eyebrows furrowing upward. 

“Climb those seven thousands steps and learn about your Thu’um.”

# Nixie

The Twilight Sepulcher was nestled in the mountains towards the west of Riften, so far that it was only a mile or two away from Ivarstead. It was dark by the time Nixie got there, finding dozens of torchbugs fluttering in the air as a babbling creek rushed by the entrance. She pushed through a large steel door and into the Sepulcher. It was cold as she walked down dimly lit halls, the darkness consuming as she walked into the large Hall, giant arches overhead as stone steps lead up to deeper in the Sepulcher. As she entered, a blue spectral figure appeared and began to approach her. Her hand flew to her blade at her hip, but he only smiled at her once within arms length, 

“I don’t recognize you, but I sense you’re one of us. Who are you?” He asked, his face scrunching together in question. 

“I’d ask the same to you.” She spoke proudly, sliding her hand off of the hilt of her sword and standing up straight. 

“The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity.” He sighed heavily, running a hand down his face in defeat. Nixie raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“The last? What about the rest of ‘em?” She questioned and the spectral figure just sighed once more and shook his head. 

“We were betrayed by one of our own kind. In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here.” If the spectral figure could, he would have begin to cry. Nixie’s confusion deepened. 

“How are you to blame?’ She questioned once more. 

“I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant then Mercer Frey wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key.” A deep sigh once again escaped his lips as his shoulders heaved. Nixie’s eyes lit up and she lunged forward.

“Wait, you’re Gallus!” She screeched, a smile on her face as she figured out who the spectral figure in front of her was. Gallus looked up, a longing in his eyes as a sad smile wavered on his lips. 

“I haven’t heard that name in a long time, how do you know me?” He questioned as Nixie’s hands dove into her pocket to pull out the Skeleton Key. 

“The Key!” Gallus gasped, his hands lurching forward as if to grab it from her, his eyes wide with surprise. “I never thought I’d see the Skeleton Key ever again. What has come of Mercer Frey?” He looked up from the key in her hands, searching for answers. A grin split across her face at the mention of the dead Guildmaster. 

“I killed him” 

Gallus stepped back, his eyes still wide with surprise and then relief. 

“Then...it’s over and my death wasn’t in vain. I owe you a great deal Nightingale.” Nixie smiled and nodded softly, 

“I did this for Nocturnal.” She stated, proud of that fact. Gallus chuckled and smiled back at her. 

“That’s quiet a noble sentiment for someone in our line of work. My only regret is that you’ve had to undertake this task alone.” His eyes turned sad and sorrowful yet Nixie kept grinning. 

“Karliah helped me.” She said, beaming which lit a spark in Gallus, his eyes bright with wonder. 

“Karliah...she’s still alive? I feared she’d befallen the same fate, ending up a victim of Mercer’s betrayal.” He looked relieved and a longing has settled in his face. Nixie held the key out towards Gallus, determination in her expression. 

“Then take the Key and right all the wrongs.” Gallus looked hopeful and then suddenly hurt as his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Nothing would bring me more pride than to return the Key, but I'm afraid it's impossible. From the moment I arrived here, I've felt myself... well... dying.” His hands hovered over his chest, over where his mortal heart had once laid

“How can a spirit die?” Nixie scoffed, offended by the denial of her offer to take the Key. He shook his head, saddened by the events of past. 

“The Sepulcher isn't merely a temple or a vault to house the Key. Within these walls is the Ebonmere... a conduit to Nocturnal's realm of Evergloam. When Mercer stole the Key, that conduit closed, severely limiting our ties to her.” Nixie sighed deeply, stuffing the Key back into her pocket before looking back up at Gallus. 

“Then I’ll have to proceed alone.” She stated, cracking her knuckles as Gallus nodded in melancholy. 

“I'm afraid so. I'm weakening, and I can feel myself slipping away. The years without restoration of my power have taken their toll. Whatever damage has been caused can only be corrected by following the Pilgrim's Path to the Ebonmere and replacing the Key.” He had been looking down at his feet, his shoulders slumped forward before looking back up. His ghostly hand reached for her cheek, a cold air hovering over her face. “Stick to the shadows and good luck, Nightingale.”

Nixie dove into the Sepulcher, her heart pounding and her palms sweaty, nervous over what was facing her. She found the first rooms lit brightly and warm but filled with Nightingale Guardians who were powerful and deadly, dealing Nixie heavy blows as she was forced to keep her flame cloak up at all times surrounding herself in fire to keep herself safe. It was a long battle, taking her nearly 20 minutes to slay down 3 Guardians ice ripping from her palm as she swung heavily with her blade Chillrend. As she moved on, she was met with two more Guardians who gave her hell but once gone, allowed her to continue down her path. She crept up pitch black stairs and carefully pushed through a door. In the next room was a maze of raised platforms and wooden bridges and stone stairs, half of the room drenched in darkness while the other half was lit like the sun. Keeping with thief instincts, she stuck to the shadows, crouching down as she slowly made her way through the room. Trip wires were sprinkled throughout the path which she plucked from a distance, setting off poison darts and arrows that would have sealed her fate had she not paid attention. After what seemed like ages of sneaking through darkness, she pushed through another door. 

Into the third room, she found a dead man sprawled on the ground in front of a shrine of Nocturnal, a plate at her feet covered with coins, potions and a necklace. Nixie at first wanted to dive for it, shovel the loot into her pockets and move on but first she circled around the statue, near the two stone torches on either side. As she turned around back to the front, she spotted a chain hanging from behind it. A tentative hand reaches out and pulled which extinguished the flame. Whipping around, Nixie spotted the other pull chain in the opposite sconce which she yanked down, plunging her into darkness. The sound of stone scraping against stone echoed behind her and Nixie spun around to see a hidden door descending and allowing her entry to the next portion of the Sepulcher. 

The fourth room was filled with pressure plates and traps. Skipping over the locked door, she braved the swinging axes, barely escaping being diced which almost caused her to step on a pressure plate. Sighing deeply, she jumped over the plate and threw open the door in front of her which triggered the battering ram on the other side which hit her square in the chest. She flew backwards and hit the ground hard, the air being knocked out of her as she struggled for breathing, gasping and writhing on the stone floor. It took her a few minutes to regain her composer, climbing unsteadily to her feet as her chest ached before moving on. Past the battering ram was another door which she cautiously opened. Nothing came flying down to inure her, the only thing beyond the second door was a short hallway where at the end held a set of double doors. 

When she pushed through the double doors, her next step plunged her down a whole where she landed hard on her butt, yelping at the impact. Across from her was a skeleton, dusty and lost to the ages. Suddenly, the stone beneath her began to shake and began to descend down. Clutching to the walls which slipped past her hands, within moments she had entered the last chamber, a blue stone underneath her feet with a keyhole embedded in it. Ripping the Skeleton Key out of her pocket, she bent down and plunged it into the hole on the floor then stepped back. Suddenly, the ground shook once more and a pool rose up, three half arches rising above as nightingale birds flew out and around her befor Nocturnal appeared before her. She had gray skin, cloaked in a black robe as she hovered barefoot. Her bright purple, almost white eyes bore into Nixie’s soul and the Daedra smirked. Two of her birds perched on her shoulders as she began to speak. 

_“My, my. What do we have here? It's been a number of years since I've set foot on your world. Or perhaps it's been moments. One tends to lose track. So... once again the Key has been stolen and a "champion" returns it to the Sepulcher. Now that Ebonmere has been restored, you stand before me awaiting your accolades; a pat on your head... a kiss on your cheek. What you fail to realize is your actions were expected and represent nothing more than the fulfillment of your agreement. Don't mistake my tone for displeasure, after all, you've obediently performed your duties to the letter. But we both know this has little to do with honor and oaths and loyalty. It's about the reward; the prize. Fear not. You'll have your trinkets, your desire for power, your hunger for wealth. I bid you to drink deeply from the Ebonmere, mortal. For this is where the Agent of Nocturnal is born. The Oath has been struck, the die has been cast and your fate awaits you in the Evergloam. Farewell, Nightingale. See to it the Key stays this time, won't you?"_

As quickly has she had arrived, Nocturnal was gone. 

“Nixie?” Her head shot up and she looked around to find Karliah approaching her, having been summoned there by Nocturnal in her last moments yet Nixie had been too enthralled by Lady Luck’s words to notice. She smiled at her fellow Dunmer who was now within arm's length of her. 

“I’m glad you were able to bring the Key back safely. Nocturnal seemed quiet pleased with your efforts.” Karliah smiled at her, and Nixie sighed. 

“As much as I love to hear her voice, she sounded less pleased and more indifferent.” 

“I wouldn't take that to heart. It's her way. Think of her as a scolding mother continually pushing you harder to be successful; outwardly sounding angry but silently content. I assure you, had she been displeased with you, we wouldn't be having this conversation." Karliah patted her shoulder and Nixie nodded before looking back to the pool of blue in front of her. 

“What was that about being an Agent of Nocturnal?” 

“The circles at the base of the Ebonmere imbue you with powers befitting a Nightingale Agent. The crescent moon represents the Agent of Shadow, the half moon for the Agent of Subterfuge and the full moon for the Agent of Strife." Karliah had pointed to each of the half arcs over the pool and the cravings at their bases. Nixie circled around her three options before stepping onto the full moon and placing her hands against the stone in front of her, feeling darkness surround her and a coldness creep up her finger tips. After a moment or two she turned back to Karliah who once more smiled at her. Nixie then approached her and sighed. 

“Okay, what now?” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest

“Now, your life as a Nightingale begins. Should the need arise, you'll be summoned to the Sepulcher in order to defend it." Karliah spoke proudly, her chest puffing out in pride of her status. 

"And you?" Nixie raised an eyebrow in question. 

"The Guild has welcomed me back with open arms. I feel like a void in my life has finally been filled. I only hope that this isn't an ending to things, but actually the beginning." Karliah’s hand pressed against her chest as once more a smile cracked across her lips, a few tears swelling in her eyes. 

"The beginning of what?" Nixie asked, her eyebrow still raised in curiosity. 

"Why, perhaps the greatest crime spree Skyrim's ever known. There are pockets brimming with coin and coffers overflowing with riches ripe for the picking. We may be Nightingales, but in our hearts we're still thieves and we're damn good at what we do." The smile on Karliah’s face spread into a grin as she patted Nixie on the shoulder. She then ushered her through the portal to her left which then transferred Nixie back to the entrance of the Twilight Sepulcher. She looked back and watched Gallus walk through the same portal and she smiled, hoping that he could finally rest. She trekked up the winding path and pushed out of the door, her eyes meeting the midday sunlight.


	24. Chapter 24

# Liliah

Marmal had told her she looked good in her priest robes but she hated how it fit. The sleeves were too long, the top of it clung to her chest and the bottom dragged against the ground. It reminded her too much of her mages robes. While she disliked the outfit she had been stuffed into, she adored her new Mara amulet. Normally, they were only given to those who were looking for love but couldn’t seem to find it but all Priests were bestowed one. It was heavy against her chest, sparkling and recently made. The gold was cool, the edges still pointed and the malachite in the middle was soft and supple. With such short staff at the Temple, Liliah was tasked with interacting with the townspeople of Riften. She was to hand out fliers, help with simple tasks, give and accept donations and give blessings upon those who asked. She stood out in the street that day, handing out fliers to people who either stuffed them in their pockets of threw them over the railing into the sewer below her feet. She didn’t care or mind, for every few people who ignored her papers, one would take it, smile at her and pass by. 

At noon, she would wander around the market circle, ask if anyone needed help. She delivered fire salts to Balimund who had asked for 10 bowls of the ingredient to help restore the magic of his forge. She dropped off a mammoth tusk for Madesi's jewelery. She then entered the Bee and the Barb where she dropped off an amethyst for Talen-Jae’s own ring for his beloved. She then bought two bowls of soup and a loaf of bread and ventured outside. She handed one bowl and half the loaf to Snilf and the other bowl and half of bread to Edda who both smiled at her warmly and thanked her kind soul. She gave Marise Aravel the Ice Wraith teeth she had requested to keep her meat cold before returning back to the Temple. 

Liliah then spent the rest of her afternoon cleaning the Temple, blessing those who asked for it and talked to the downtrodden, the weak, and the needy, hoping to put a smile on their sullen faces. She ate dinner with Maramal and his wife Dinya who was becoming heavy with child, her stomach very obviously carrying new life. Lilaih was the one who cleaned and blew out the last candles before locking the Temple and heading to her home, Honeyside. She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, the last image in her mind was that of a raven haired woman smiling at her.

# Gwenn

_Commander Maro’s grip was strong as his hands clutched her jaw and throat, forcing her to watch as his men slaughtered her Family. At first, their swords and arrows struck down people like Veezara, Festus, Gabriella. Then as their bodies crumbled on the floor in thick pools of blood, the Penitus Oculatus agents began to usher out others like Babette and Nazir who they senselessly slaughtered before ushering out Alron who had been beaten and battered before they slit his throat. Commander Maro threw her to the ground, letting her struggle to her feet as her hands met the thick, warm puddles of her loved one’s blood. When she finally stood, two different men twisted her arms behind her back as Maro dragged out Cicero by his hair where he threw him to the ground before driving his sword through the dead center of his chest._

 

At first, she thought the echoing scream was just in her head but as the man at her side jolted awake and she heard heavy footsteps down the hall, she knew it had escaped her throat. She found herself sitting up right, tears streaming across her cheeks as Cicero hovered over her, both of his hands clutching her face. The bang of her door being thrown open drew a yelp out of her as Nazir and Babette appeared in the doorway, both dressed in their sleepwear and weapons in their hand. As they realized the threat was non existent, they lowered their blades and shuffled over to her bedside as Cicero pressed his forehead against hers, Gwenn’s body shaking with sobs. A few of the new initiates had peeked their head through the doorway to see what all the commotion was about. 

“I...I’m fine...go back to bed…” Gwenn was able to choke out, her eyes clenched shut as tears still fell of her chin, staining her blanket. 

“But..Gwenn…” Nazir reached a hand out, his eyebrows furrowed. Her eyebrows knitted together and she took in a shaky breath. 

“I said...go back to bed.” Nazir, Babette and Cicero all exchanged nods before the former of the two shuffled out and closed the door softly behind them. She heard Nazir tell the initiates to return to their rooms before heavy footsteps hurried down the hall

“My Gwenn...what happened?” Cicero whispered, pressing his forehead against hers once more. She sniffled, her eyes slowly opening. She met his amber eyes to find them filled with concern as his thumbs stroked away tears from her burning cheeks. 

“I...Maro...he killed you...I…” She became a blubbering mess again, her chest heaving with sobs again. Cicero sat at her side, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close. He ran his fingers through her hair as she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his chest. They slowly sunk back into bed, arms still wrapped around each other.

“It was just a dream, Gwenn. Maro is just fish food now, Cicero promises.” He kissed her softly, his fingers still snaked through her soft brown locks as she was clutching the fabric of his white night shirt. He slowly began to hum softly, his chest vibrating as Gwenn’s breath slowly returned back to normal. It wasn’t long after that when they both fell back to sleep. Their chests rose slow, Cicero snoring softly and neither of them were plagued by dreams that time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we just had a kinda heavy, serious, long chapter. So now, we have a short, light heated and sweeter chapter! ur welcome


	25. Chapter 25

# Eela

>

 

Ivarstead was a small town made up of no more than a dozen people that hugged the mountainside. Eela had arrived in the late evening dusk, the sky almost darkened with stars but the horizon still dusted with hues of orange and pink. She checked into the Inn, ate a hearty dinner of steak, potatoes and an entire loaf of bread before turning in for the night. She had a dreamless sleep that night but woke well rested and ready to walk up seven thousand steps. The sun hadn’t even peaked above the rolling fields beyond, the ground still sprinkled with frost as a few snowflakes drifted down from the clouds above. With a cloak tied at her throat and her sword at her hip, she began her ascent to the secluded High Hrothgar right below the Throat of the World. Her journey up the steps was met with harsh winds, heavy snow, goats and a few packs of wolves who quickly fell to her blade, leaving the pristine patches of snow and old, forgotten steps coated crimson. Even with her predisposition for cold weather, the harsh winds that blew through the mountain passes chilled her to the core, left her hands numb and stiff, her lips chapped. When she finally made her way up the final steps, she came upon a large castle with ornate doors and architecture. She struggled up the last few steps, tired and freezing but found the will to push through the door. As it slipped shut behind her, warmth began to melt the cold away and her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. Just beyond a set of pillars were 4 men, withered by time and dressed in heavy grey cloaks, long beards of coarse hair settled down to their chest. One man stepped forward and smiled at her, opening his arms in a wide arc. 

“So, a Dragonborn appears, at this moment in the turning of the age” His voice was deep but soft and comforting, the voice of a wise man. Eela slowly took down her hood, releasing her golden locks from their confines behind her hood. 

“I’m answering your summons.” She stated, glancing around at the other men beyond the one greeting her. 

“We will see if you truly have the gift,” The man nodded and the few behind him did so as well, “Show us, Dragonborn. Let us taste your voice.” She looked around and shuffled a few steps back, afraid of hurting frail old men sequestered in a lonely mountaintop castle. A heat bubbled in her chest, her heart beating a bit faster as words ripped from her tongue “Fus!” flew from her mouth, sending a rush of air out that blew back vases, pots, caused the man in front of her to stumbled a bit. He regained his composer, his eyes light with a hope as she stepped forward. 

“Dragonborn, it is you. Welcome to High Hrothgar.” He set a large, wrinkled hand on her shoulder, let her towards the other men, placing her in the center of the room. “I am Master Arngeir. I speak for the Greybeards.” He turned back to her, hand slipping away “Now, tell me, why have you come here?” Her eyebrows furrowed and anxiety took grip on her heart. Why was she here? Easy, because her husband-to-be told her to, that after he promised a wedding and a warm castle and children. She had fought her war, won it and wanted to reap the benefits, she wanted no part of this destiny, this new war on a new front. Yet something in her nagged at her, an unseen potential was crying out, slamming at the bars of it’s prison, longing to be free. She had come to learn of her power, her ability and even if she didn’t want it, her destiny. 

“I want to find out what it means to be Dragonborn.” 

She was then introduced to her other masters, Einarth, Wulfgar and Borri whose voices were too powerful for her to hear. They tested her strength, her ability to learn Shouts. She heard she had the natural ability to speak in the language of the Dragons, that in her veins coursed the blood of the winged beats, her soul was that of the ancient creatures. She learned two more shouts then was sent on her way to retrieve the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller, the founder of the Greybeards. After feeding her dinner and giving her a bed to rest in before she set off to Ustengrav. It took her three days of travel to reach the crypt and by the time she got through the crypt, she was tired. As she found the holding place for the Horn, she found a note with a wax seal in its place. Eela carefully reached for the parchment, ripping it open. Inside was neatly printed writing that read

_Dragonborn,_  
I need to speak to you. Urgently.  
Rent the attic room at the Sleeping Giant Inn in Riverwood and I’ll meet you  
-A friend. 

Tired from travel and angry from an unsuccessful mission, Eela let loose a Shout, dust flying off the stone walls, a few bits of the ceiling crumbling to the floor as she stalked out. Whatever “friend” this was, Eela already didn’t like them.

# Nixie

Returning to the Thieves Guild was fantastic, as soon as she stepped down into the Cistern the feeling within was already different. It was brighter somehow, lighter and more confident. The Cistern itself was empty, her fellow thieves either our on missions or corralled in the Ragged Flagon. When she entered the bar, it fell silent as all eyes fell to her. Delvin was the first one who raised his mug to hear, slowly the other joined as Brynjolf handed her a cold mug of Black Briar. She graciously took it, smiled and soon all of them were more than buzzed. 

The other experienced thieves around her shared stories of past capers, Vipir told the story of how he ran all the way from Solitude back to Riften which earned him his nickname of Vipir The Fleet. Delvin told stories of his time with the Dark Brotherhood which reminded Nixie to check up on her old friend. Vex talked about her best infiltration jobs and best fights she’s had when Garthar piped up and told how she couldn’t beat him which made her go silent, glowering at him while Niruin discussed with Rune about his plans for a brothel which Rune just shook his head to. 

Nixie was lost in their conversations, grinning and laughing at her fellow thieves, for once truly feeling at home, at peace and welcomed. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she looked up to see Brynjolf smiling at her. She raised an eyebrow and he motioned for her to follow him.Setting down her mug, she rose from her chair and he took her hand, leading her out of the Ragged Flagon and into the Cistern. It was empty except for them, the running water around them loud in the chamber as Brynjolf led her to the small training room, a grin on his face. 

“Alright lass, close your eyes.” He instructed and Nixie sighed dramatically before slipping her hands over her face, noting they smelled like rosemary and mead. She heard shuffling and clattering and soon Brynjolf told her to open her eyes. She lowered her hands and in front of her was Brynjolf holding heavy leather armor like the one she was already wearing but a lighter brown, better well constructed. He slowly handed it over to her, a lightness in his eyes.   
“Here, it’s Guild Master Armor, custom made for you.” He smiled as she held it in her arms, heavy and cold to the touch. She was stunned, the idea that she was now leader of the Thieves Guild shocked her, only a few months ago she was a new recruit who no one thought would make it past the bandits in the sewer and now she was their leader. Nixie dropped the armor to the ground and flung her arms around Brynjolf’s neck, smashing their lips together, kissing him hard and heavy. His hands instantly clutched her hips, pulling her closer to him. They stayed connected like that for a few minutes but it felt like forever to the both of them. When she finally broke away, she rested her head against his shoulder, his hands brushing through her soft white locks. Her voice was soft yet gravely as she spoke, her chest vibrating against his. 

“Even if I hadn’t been low on gold that day in the market, I still would have joined the Thieves Guild.” She admitted, eyes slipped closed as they stood still arm in arm. Bryn’s hand slipped up, pressing his hand to her cheek and forcing her to look at him. 

“That day in the market I knew you were something special, The look in your eyes or your stance or something led me to you and thank the Gods I listened.” He pressed his lips against her forehead and she smiled softly, a blush creeping up on her grey cheeks. 

“Screw that stuffy College, it would have taken me double the time to become their leader.” She laughed and so did Brynjolf before he leaned in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "ya can I get a new chapter?" 
> 
> sorry man, chapter machine broke


	26. Chapter 26

# Gwenn

Gwenn and Nazir sat across from each other at the long dining table in the foyer of the Sanctuary. Quills were danced through their fingers as they peered over a list of names, surrounded by scraps of parchment with various types of handwriting scrawled across them. The lists were of potential new initiates, the other parchment were full of information collected by the four of them on each of the considered. Throughout the Sanctuary, sounds of the two others fluttered through the stone halls. The sounds of pouring and crushing came from down the hall where Babette stood mixing potions and ingredients. Past the alchemy station were the dull sounds of moans, yells and laughter which all came from the torture room where Cicero was, inflicting pain on a witness to his most recent contract. Gwenn was the first to speak up, tossing her quill down as she grasped the list in her hand. 

“I have my finalists, what about you?” She asked as Nazir finished his own list of desired recruits. 

“You go first.” He motioned over to her and she sat up before resting her forearms on the table and leaning over. 

“I’ve got the Khajiit twins Elahana and Fa’Nir, they’re both quick on their feet and clean, something we need in this group. Then the Imperial, Andyn, he’s good with an axe and he’s strong. Cinia seems like she’ll fit i-” A loud scream pierced through the air followed by laughter which cut Gwenn off. She sighed, rolled her eyes and continued, “ in, she’s just as….creative as Cicero but she knows when to run. Eran seems likely, he’s from a family of hunters, good with a bow. Finally there’s De-” Another pained scream echoed down the hall, distracting Gwenn from her duty at hand. This time, she slammed her hands on the table and yelled for Cicero who quickly came bounding down the hall. A cheery smile on his face contradicted the blood on his hands, going all the way up to his elbows, smeared on his clothes, coated on his shoes and streaked across his forehead. He bent over and smiled again.

“Yes, Gwenn?” He chirped in a sing song voice, happier than Gwenn thought one person could be. She smiled herself and patted his cheek. 

“Y’know my love, I’m trying to get a few offical things done, could you perhaps hold off on the most painful torture for just a little bit, it’s distracting.” He nodded feverently, looking apologetic and guilty. 

“Of course! Of course! Anything for my Gwenn.” She smiled once more, leaning up to kiss his cheek, causing him to flush bright red before turning on his heel and heading back down the hall. Gwenn cleared her throat and grabbed her list, leaning back over the table. 

“Now, as I was saying. Desdra is good with poison and other clean kills, just like the twins she’d help with balance.” She laid her paper down and looked over at Nazir, who chuckled and shook his head. 

“I chose the exact damn people.” He laughed harder, tossing his paper down on the table top. Gwenn giggled along with him, shaking her head as well. 

***  
One by one, Gwenn contacted each of the potential members, taking them to the same abandoned shack where she began her recruitment with the same task. Three people, three options, who to kill? Each of the potentials passed with flying colors, the Khajiit twin’s leaving quiet the impression as they both did as she had and killed all three potential contract holders, ripping out their flesh with their claws. Then, one by one, each new recruit found the Sanctuary, donned their armor and were sent out on their first contract. Each one came back with a smile and a pocket full of gold. Two weeks passed and every recruit now sat at the dining table in the foyer, the first time it had been filled in decades. Gwenn sat at the head of the table, around her was her new family. Cicero sat directly to her right, Babette to her left. At the direct other end of the table was Nazir who chatted with Andyn about his first contract. Next to him sat Elahana and Fa’Nir who were busy pestering each other with their tails. Across from them sat Cinia who was showing Eran a game in which you stab between your fingers and don’t try to cut your hand. Finally, Desdra sat chatting with Babette about how to craft the perfect poison. A sense of pride swelled in her chest as she looked out onto a happy family, her happy family. She stood suddenly and the hall fell silent as all eyes looked to her. She grabbed her mug and held it firmly in her right hand. 

“I’d just like to say...I’m so glad that all of you are here tonight, it’s been a long road for me to become your leader, and even though that path took me through some of the darkest moments of my life, I’m glad it did or else I wouldn’t have the family I have today. So, To Family!” She raised her glass high, smiling faces around her did the same, echoing “To Family!” Back at her before clinking metal together, laughter erupting around her. As she sat back down, Cicero reached over and grabbed her hand, intertwining their fingers together. As she looked around at her new family, she knew that together, they’d bring a new reign of terror upon Skyrim, the likes of which had not been seen in Era.

# Liliah

It was a sunny morning, a little cold but the sun shone heavily in the sky and no clouds were to be seen for miles. Liliah woke up early that morning, was the first one to open the temple,to light all of it’s candles, it’s fire pits. The first one to pull forth the blessing book, the crystals, the herbs and incense. She opened the doors and welcomed all into the Temple of Mara. People filtered in and out, some wishing for blessings which she gave, sprinkling their foreheads and saying prayers. Some looked for council which she gave, speaking kind words and offering prayer. Some offered donation which she referred to the box which had coins fall into it, clicking onto the pile already inside. Some sought healing which she offered, extending her hands over them, a warm yellow light pulsating from her tanned fingertips. At noon, a sweaty, out of breath and frantic Maramal came bursting through the doors as she was blessing an older woman, shriveled by time but still faithful to her goddess. She stopped in the middle of her blessing as Maramal grasped her shoulder with slick fingers and began to drag her. 

“Maramal, what’s wrong?” She asked as he pulled her out of the temple and down the busy streets of Riften. 

“It’s...Dinya….the baby is coming and I don’t know what to do!” 

For the rest of her day, Liliah tended to the laboring Dinya, who moaned and cried with her worried husband by her side. Liliah did all she could, she concocted a handful of health potions in an attempt to ease the woman’s pain, enacted a few blessings for a quicker, simpler, less painful birth and by evening, finally delivered a crying child. The baby in her hands had caramel skin like her father, chestnut hair like her mother, honey eyes like her father and long, pointed Mer ears like her mother. Wrapping up the child in a wool blanket, she passed the babe to it’s mother who breathe a sigh of relief along with a prayer. Cradling the child, Maramal climbed into the bed with Dinya, tears streaming down both of their faces as they looked upon a daughter who many people doubted could exist but thanks to Mara, she was there in her mother’s arms. 

“My love, what should we name her?” Maramal whispered softly, staring at his new child in complete awe. Dinya smiled, ran a delicate finger across her baby’s cheek which smiled up at her. 

“Faleen.” She spoke softly, leaning down to kiss her child’s forehead. Maramal nodded softly, smiling sweetly. “I love it.” 

Liliah blessed the family in front of her before leaving to lock up the Temple. There she cleaned the benches, put away the herbs and books, counted and stored the donated coin before blowing out all of the candles and locking the door behind her. When she got home to Honeyside that night, she ate her dinner on the balcony, overlooking the lake bathed in moonlight, the moored ships with their sales fluttering as torchbugs and luna moths dove for water and flowers on the islands dotting the water. That night, Liliah laid in her bed and she was horribly aware of how tragically empty her bed was. She longed for someone else beside her, to hold her, stroke her hair, whisper sweet nothings and dot her skin with kisses. The last image in mind was that raven haired woman smiling at her once more.


	27. Chapter 27

# Eela

Riverrun was a small town outside of Whiterun, built next to a stream that powered the towns saw mill, building them up on the trading and selling of lumber. It was midday when Eela rode in on her horse, tired, angry and not in the most hospitable of moods. She dropped her horse off at the stables and marched her way to the Sleeping Giant Inn, her stare cold enough to freeze the heart of a Daedra. Inside was the barkeep, the Bard and some lady sweeping the floors, a tired look in her eyes as he straw colored hair fell down into her eyes. Eela felt a spark in her chest as she stared at the women and she strode over to her. 

“I’d like to rent the attic room.” She stated proudly, still furious over this turn of events dragging her farther and farther from her castle in Windhelm, farther away from her wedding and her happiness. The women looked up at her, a glimmer catching in her eye. 

“Attic room, eh? Well, we don’t have an attic room but you can have the one on the left. Make yourself at home.” She forced a smile and returned to sweeping, the rage burning in Eela’s heart only strengthen as she stalked over to the room and slammed the door behind her, throwing her bag to the ground and flinging herself onto the bed like a child might, screaming into the pillow like she had back when her farm wasn’t ash and her parents weren't blackened bone. It didn’t take long for a knock to come at her door and she quickly scrambled to her feet, running a hand down her armor and over the top of her head, smoothing down the loose hairs. 

“Come in.” She commanded, clearing her throat, the same anger still burning in her eyes. The door slowly slipped open, creaking as it did so and in walked the same tired woman, this time without her broom but her hand was placed behind her back. The door closed behind her and the woman smiled. 

“So, you’re the Dragonborn I’ve been hearing so much about. Here, I think you’re looking for this.” From behind her back she produced the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and Eela snatched it up without a second though, the frown in her face deepening. The woman squinted her eyes at Eela then motioned her along. 

“Follow me.” Eela reluctantly did so, collecting her bag from the floor and following this mysterious woman she did not like already, despite not even knowing her name. Eela followed her into her room, closed the door behind her and the woman opened up her wardrobe and pushed away the false back, walking down a descending flight of stone stairs. 

In the hidden room was a long wooden table covered in books and a map, in the corner tucked away was an alchemy table, near that was a bookcase with ingredients and a fighting mannequin. Along the other walls were swords, axes and bows, a locked chest sat on either side of the room. 

“The Greybeards seem to think you’re the Dragonborn. I hope they’re right.” She shook her head and looked over her map, sighing. 

“You’re the one who took the horn.” Eela said plainly, at a loss for any other statement. 

“Surprised? I guess I’m getting pretty good at my harmless innkeeper act.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes at Eela. 

“What do you want with me? Do you know who I am?” Eela growled, annoyed and tired as she stared upon this old woman who had done nothing so far but inconvenience her. 

“I didn’t go to all this trouble on a whim. I needed to make sure it wasn’t a Thalmor trap.” Eela took major offense to that and scoffed.

“You really don’t know who I am then. I’m Eela Harik, General of the Stormcloak Rebellion! I would not side with the Thalmor and I find it insulting that you would think so.” She scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. The mysterious woman groaned and clenched her fists.

“I am not your enemy. I already gave you the horn. I’m actually trying to help you, I just need you to hear me out.” She rationed, looking back up at Eela. Eela sighed and waved a hand at her. 

“Go on.” 

“Like I said in my note, I’ve heard you might be Dragonborn. I’m part of a group that’s been looking for you...well, someone like you, for a very long time. If you really are Dragonborn, that is. Before I tell you anymore, I need to make sure I can trust you.” 

And with that, Eela was out for Kynesgrove, a small layover town near the border of The Rift and Eastmarch. All that was held in Kynesgrove was an inn, a few houses and a farm. Eela traveled there alone, letting her foul mood simmer as she had her horse at a full gallop most of the way there. A day and a half passed by the time she reached the small settlement, hovering outside of the Inn still perched atop her horse, waiting for the suspicious innkeeper, whose name she learned was Delphine, to join her. The entire reason for their trip to Kynesgrove was to find the dragon burial and wait for it to be resurrected, there Eela would slay her second dragon to prove that she was truly in fact, Dragonborn.  
The sun was barely cresting over the horizon when the Innkeeper showed up on her own horse, a filly the color of mud and smaller than most. Eela dismounted her own golden steed and began to trek up the cobblestone road towards the forest where Delphine jogged up next to her, joining her pace. Suddenly, a screamed pierced the air and in front of them, a woman came sprinting down from the mountain side road, terror enveloping her. 

“It’s the end times! A dragon! Run!” The woman sped past Eela and Delphine, hysterical as she ran out of Kynesgrove, abandoning everything to escape. Delphine glanced at Eela, fear in her own eyes. 

“Come on, we might be too late!” 

As the two of them sprinted up the path, the sky began to darken, thick black clouds blocking out the sun just like they had the day Helgen was attacked. Fear gripped Eela’s heart and she picked up the pace, loud roars echoing through the air. Her and Delphine slid behind a rock, peering out from the side of it as an ancient dragon mound sat directly in front of them. In the air was that same giant black beast that Eela had seen a month ago. Light began to pulse up into the sky from the grave as sand flew into the air, clearing the mound as the dragon hovered above, deep foreign words harsh in Eela’s ears. Suddenly, the skeleton of the long dead dragon emerged from the grave, flesh and blood appearing over its bones and it let out a mighty roar. 

Suddenly, the dragon flying above her stared at her, dark red eyes piercing her soul and making her blood run cold. 

_**“Ful losei, Dovahkiin? Zu’u koraav nid nol dov do hi?”**_ The dragon addressed her in a language she did not know but something about his tone made her heart beat harder against her ribs, sweat beading down her back. 

_**“You do not even know our tongue, do you? Such ignorance, to dare take for yourself the name of Dovah.”**_ Eela’s breath was caught in her throat as the hovering dragon spoke a command to the one on the ground before flying away. The newly resurrected dragon took flight, letting out his roar, shaking the ground beneath her. Delphine stood and began firing arrows, piercing into the dragon's hide as it set fire to the trees around them. All of the sudden, the beast landed in front of her and bared it’s teeth at her. Eela swing her sword quickly, gouging out one of it’s eyes which caused it to let out a pained growl. The monster opened his mouth to set her aflame but an arrow came piercing into it’s injured eye, causing it to throw its focus to Delphine. As the dragon turned to stalk after Eela’s partner, Eela herself took the opportunity to let loose her own Thu’um, sending the dragon back a foot or two and she sprinted, swinging her sword down with all of her force, once more nearly decapitating the dragon. As the beast fell to the ground, shaking it beneath her feet, it looked upon Eela with it’s one good eye and whispered “Dovahkiin” as it died. Like before, it’s scales and flesh began to shrink, burn and turn to ash, flying into the air as light flew towards her, warming her as she absorbed the monster's soul. 

“By the Gods...So you really are…” Delphine had joined her by her side, shock and awe apparent on her face. She sighed and looked towards her. “I guess I owe you some answers.” 

From there on out, their plan was to find a way into the Thalmor Embassy but first, Delphine needed to put together a scheme and eventually, they would reconvene at her Inn. Tired, scared and homesick, Eela climbed atop her honey colored mare and parted ways with Delphine, riding through the snowy day back to Windhelm, a strange feeling in her heart as she walked through the city gates, the familiar sights, sounds and smells welcoming her back. When she walked into the Palace of Kings, warmth enveloped her and from the steel door to her left, Ulfric emerged, the scowl on his face replaced with a grin as he caught sight of her. She flung herself into his arms and he wrapped himself around her. He smelled like wool, fire and steel, smelled like home. He pulled her back, his hand cupping her cheek. His eyes were sympathetic and grateful as he planted a kiss on her forehead. 

“I’ve missed you.”

# Nixie

Most everyone was asleep in their beds inside the Cistern, all lights were out except for the candles surrounding the statue of Nocturnal and the candles still flickering on Nixie’s desk, parchment, quills and a giant book spread out on the wood around her. With luck back on the Guild’s side and new leadership in place, the main goal for now was to restore the Guild’s influence in all the major cities. Day and night, the members worked tirelessly to steal and corrupt as much as they could within the 4 other major cities in Skyrim. Markarth and Solitude were already open to trade and influence by the Guild but Whiterun and Windhelm were still without the mayhem of thieves. Nixie looked upon books and papers filled with numbers and ideas, ways to get fence traders to come out of their hiding places and more thieves to join them and fill the streets of cities other than Riften. 

It was late, Nixie had no clue how late but the only sounds were the running water of the Cistern and her own breathing. Her eyes began to slip shut, the numbers and letters scrawled on the pages blurring in and out of focus. Her head fell forward and hit the desk with a soft thud as she drifted off. Minutes later a strong hand gripped her shoulder and she shot up straight, quills and papers scattering to the floor.

“I’m working!” She blurted out, falling to her knees as she hurriedly picked up the loose papers from the ground. As she went to stand up, she smacked her head against the bottom of the desk and let out a yelp, dropping the papers once more. 

“Lass, do you have any idea what time it is?” Brynjolf knelt down as Nixie rubbed the top of her head, angry tears stinging her eyes. She shook her head no, a childish pout forming on her lips. He smiled sympathetically and held out his hand which she took, crawling out from under the desk. “Whatever you’re working on can wait til mornin’.” He told her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her to one of the empty beds. She sat down and stared at Brynjolf tiredly as he took off her shoes for her, casting them to the side. 

“If we pull off a few more burglaries and heists in Windhelm and Whiterun, maybe a bedlam or numbers jobs then we could get influence back.” Nixie said, yawning midway through her sentence as Brynjolf helped her take off her chest piece, leaving her in a white undershirt. 

“We can talk about all of this in the mornin, lass, get some rest.” He said, chuckling softly as she threw the blankets over top of her, her eyes sliding shut easily. He leaned down and kissed her forehead and she smiled happily as she drifted off. 

It was midday when Nixie finally awoke, her head pounding and her mouth dry. The incident from last night came flooding back, giving explanation to her headache. She put her chest piece and boots back on, stumbling out of the Cistern and into the Ragged Flagon where she found Delvin, Vex and Tonila drinking and casually talking. When Nixie entered Delvin grinned at her disheveled form. 

“Look who decided to join the livin’. How ya feelin’ Nix?” Delvin asked, sliding a tankard across the bar towards her. She graciously took it, gulping it down in a few seconds. After she was done with her mead, she eyed her fellow Guild members suspiciously. 

“Who let me sleep so late?” She questioned, eyebrows furrowed. 

“Bryn told us to let you sleep. He said you’ve been pushing yourself too hard and you needed a break.” Vex informed her, not taking her eyes off of her book. Nixie sighed and ran a hand down her face. 

“While that’s true, I don’t like wasting so much of the day. I need to get more heist and burglary jobs out to Windhelm and Whiterun.” She stated as Vekel refilled her flagon which she graciously took another sip out of. 

“Bryn sent all those out already, Nix, you ain’t gotta worry ‘bout anythin’ today.” Delvin informed her, grinning. Nixie raised an eyebrow and sighed, pouting, mulling over what to do with her spare time. She sat there for awhile, dancing her fingers around the rim of her tankard. After around 10 minutes of sullen silence, she shot up out of her seat. 

“I’ll be back later! If Bryn shows up, tell him I went into town.” Nixie threw down a few septims for Vekel before bolting out of the Flagon for the city above.


	28. Chapter 28

# Liliah

The day was bright but cold, something unusual for Riften but the day was lovely nonetheless. Liliah, like always, was up bright and early to start her duties at the Temple. With a new baby occupying most of Maramal and Dinya’s time, Liliah was left as head of the Temple for the time being. As noon rolled around, she headed out for the market to do her daily round of donations. Just as she was handing 5 coins to a beggar, she heard her name called. She stood up and looked around, finding the market place normal as always, people carrying on with their own duties and doing the best to ignore her. She raised an eyebrow, confused as to who called for her. 

“Liliah!” A hand gripped her shoulder and she spun around to see Nixie. Liliah let out a loud gasp before flinging herself into her friend's arms. “Woah, hey there, Lil.” Nixie laughed, pulling her friend off of her. 

“Nixie! I haven’t seen you in...God’s know how long…” Liliah sighed, clutching her amulet nestled over her chest. Nixie grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of her head. 

“Yeah, sorry about that Lil, I’ve been pretty busy with...lord...a whole mess of things.” Nixie reflected on the past month of activities she had journeyed through. Liliah looked up at her with a soft sadness, tears brimming on the edge of her raven colored eyes.

“You missed mother’s funeral…”

After she informed her childhood friend of her mother’s passing, Nixie had demanded that Liliah take her down to the Hall of the Dead so she could truly pay her respects to the woman she considered a second mother. Most of the coffins in the Hall of the Dead were nestled in the opening in the walls built for occupants. Liliah had requested a full section dedicated to her mother, a little cove in the Hall where her coffin sat on a pedestal, a bright red velvet cover laying over the coffin, mountain flowers, lavender, and dragon’s tongue flowers wilting on the coffin. A Mara shrine erected over her body, the weeping woman forever protecting her. The two girls hovered over the grave, Nixie’s face stone cold, void of emotion while Liliah struggled to keep her tears from cascading down her cheeks. 

“What was the last thing she said to you?” Nixie ask, her face still, her voice unwavering. Liliah was quiet for a few moments, taking in deep breaths as she steadied her racing heart. 

“That there was darkness coming and I was going to help bring peace back to the world.” She had clutched her amulet and clenched her eyes shut as she recalled the painful moments of her mother’s death. 

“What darkness?” Nixie questioned, her eyebrows furrowing. Liliah sniffled, a tear finally escaping and rolling down her right cheek. 

“I have no clue, she wasn’t able to explain.” Her bottom lip quivered as her eyebrows turned up, more tears falling. Instantly, she felt nixies arm around her shoulder and she began to lead her out of the Hall of the Dead. 

“Come on, I’ll buy us some drinks and I’ll tell you all about how I’m now leading the Thieves Guild.” 

It was dark by the time Nixie had paid for their drinks and lead Liliah back to her house, smiles having replaced the melancholy of earlier. 

“So, two months ago we were both mages at the College and now I’m the leader of the Guild and you’re a Priestess of Mara…” Nixie shook her head and chuckled, Liliah smiling sadly. 

“You’ve got it better than me though, Nix…” Liliah sighed sadly, looking up at her friend who had stopped in her tracks. “You’ve got a group of friends, a lover, and more wealth than you need...I’ve got an empty home, a town of people who try their best to ignore me and one friend.” Liliah’s eyes have drifted downward, tears once again threatening to stain her face. 

“Hey, you’re sweet and pretty and smart, someone will come along and sweep you off your feet, I know it.” Nixie grinned at her friend and linked arms with her, leading her all the way back home. 

Once there, Liliah took off her robes, brushed out her hair and blew out her candles as she crawled into bed. Once more, as she slid her eyes shut, a girl with porcelain skin and raven hair grinned at her and laughed. 

# Gwenn

A whistling tune traveled through the halls of the Sanctuary from the torture room where Cicero stood, cleaning up blood from every surface he had splattered it on. A half dozen bloody rags sat in a pile, already soiled from cleaning. Gwenn turned the corner and softly knocked on the door parchment clutched in her hand. Cicero spun around and a wide grin spread across his lips. 

“Yes, Listener?” He chimed, dropping the rag at his feet. She walked into the room and waved the parchment in the air.

“I’ve got a contract I need to take care of, I thought you might want to help. Old employer wants a man killed, he ran off with priceless merchandise. Says if we can find him we can keep whatever he stole.” She had a grin that spread from ear to ear and Cicero clapped his hands.

“Oh, of course! Of course, Cicero would love to join his Gwenn on a contract! The Listener and the Keeper out to kill!” He grabbed her hands with his own bloodied ones, intertwining their fingers together as he began to dance around, laughing as he did so. 

They set out that night, cloaks tied around their throats, daggers on their hips and blood lust coursing through them. The thief was allegedly hidden outside of Winterhold in an abandoned shack out in the snowy mountains of the North. They paid 30 gold for a carriage ride to the destroyed town as the stars twinkled above, a cloudless sky dotted with specks of light, auroras taking this opportunity to dance their spectacle, waving and twisting in shades of blues, greens and purples. 

Gwenn found herself tired and worn out, eyes drooping shut constantly. It didn’t take long for Cicero to put a hand on her shoulder and pat his lap. She took the hint and threw her bag off of her back and laid across the cold wood and rested her head in his lap. His hands quickly began to brush her brown locks behind her ears as he started to eagerly hum a tune, lulling her to sleep.

He couldn’t help but stare at her, noting how much she had changed from the day she had helped him with his wagon wheel. More freckles had sprouted across her nose and cheeks. Her hair was longer, now brushing her shoulders instead of touching her chin and a light scar stretched from her cheekbone to her chin. Just looking at her made his heart feel light, filled with joy and a sense of longing. 

Cicero untied the cloak around his neck and laid it over Gwenn, a smile dusting over her lips as she wrapped her arms around his leg. He chuckled and shook his head, resting his hand on top of hers. Soon, he too fell asleep, the rocking of the carriage soothing him into slumber. 

When the carriage came to a halt outside of Winterhold, the sun wasn’t even cresting over the horizon but morning was signaled by the lightening color of the sky and the disappearance of the moon, stars and dancing auroras. They both jolted awake when the driver kicked the back of the wooden carriage. Gwenn shot up into a sitting position and Cicero pulled his hat from his eyes, the two of them glaring at the man. Gathering their things, they climbed down, adjusting their cloaks and bags, Gwenn cracking her back and bending down to touch her toes before springing back up. 

“Alright, the shack is said to be just past the mountain, about an hour or two walk south of here. I’d say we’d get there a little after the sun rises.” She informed her partner to which he nodded and let her lead the way. The sun was behind the mountain as it rose above the horizon, the sky turning from black to grey, large fluffy clouds looming over head like dark balls of wool. Frost lined every branch and blade of grass in sight. Gwenn and Cicero walked side by side, weapons clinking against their legs, cloaks wrapped tightly around their bodies. By the time they found the shack sequestered in a clearing of forest, the sun had risen over the horizon, the sky a light blue tinted with grey as dark clouds threatened to pour down snow and ice. The pair of assassins sat behind a tree, the windows of the shack dark, no signs of a fire in the hearth or candles on the tables. Gwenn looked over at Cicero with a dark lust for mayhem in her eyes, the color of her irises having gone from sparkling sapphire to a dark navy. 

Slowly, they both snuck up to the door, Cicero slowly picking the lock until it clicked, swinging open silently. They both took soft steps where across from the door sat a fireplace, cold and desolate. To the right of them was the bed where the old man slept, head buried in his pillow which muffled the sounds of his rampant snoring. With a quick head nod, Cicero closed the door behind Gwenn as they both then stood, each pulling their weapons out of their holster. Without instruction or hesitation, they each took their places. Gwenn quickly pulled out a rope and expertly tied the man’s feet to the bottom bed posts before climbing on top of him. He quickly woke up and went to scream but was instantly muffled by a cloth stuffed into his mouth. 

“So, I heard you’re a thief and without the support of the Guild, you’re not free from punishment.” Gwenn informed him, her voice filled with nothing but malice mixed with a sick satisfaction from feeling the man squirm under her with fear in his eyes. As Cicero held down his right hand, Gwenn reached over and snapped his wrist, a sickening grin spreading across her face as she grabbed her dagger from the side. The man struggled under her legs as he whimpered, the blade slowly slipping into his skin, blood spilling out rapidly. With each finger gone, more blood was pooling in Gwenn’s hands, giggles bubbling from her chest every few slices as the man’s cries became more guttural and distressed, sweat and tears flooding his face. 

Soon, all 10 of his fingers littered the ground beneath the bed. Blood had soaked through the pillows, mattress, stained the man’s shirt and face. Gwenn herself was drenched down to her elbows in blood, her face splattered with it. She held out her hand towards Cicero and without speaking a word, he understood her request and handed her a poison bottle. She nodded and ripped open the man’s shirt before dipping her blade in the poison, coating it in a thick green liquid. Slowly, Gwenn began to carve the word “Thief “ into the man’s chest, each slice of her blade burning his skin as she dug her dagger into his torso. The man screamed more painfully than before, crying loudly even with the cloth in his mouth muffling his noises. 

Once the word had been beautiful etched deep into his chest, she proceeded to to wipe the blood off of her blade before diving it deep into the man’s throat. He kicked and squirmed under her, blood gurgling in his mouth that spilled from his thin lips. After a few more moments of her blade diving deeper into his neck, he went still from under her. With one swift motion, she ripped her dagger from his neck, blood flying everywhere, covering her and Cicero with crimson as the man’s last few ounces of life flowed out with his blood, oozing from his throat before stopping. 

Gwenn climbed off the now dead man, drenched in blood from her knees to her head. She looked at Cicero and he did nothing but look at her with admiration and adoration, a dark smile spread across his face. He reached over and pulled her to his chest, ignoring the blood dripping off of her. He cupped her face and connected their lips together. She melted into him, throwing her hands into his long ginger locks, his hat hitting the floor with a soft thump. Their bodies molding together, forgetting their places in the world, in the universe as they shared one moment in pure bliss. What felt like an eternity later, they pulled apart and went back to work. They searched high and low for the stolen item which was kept in a small blue velvet bag. After ripping through the wardrobe, the bureau, smashing every pot and barrel they found the bag nestled under the pillow where the dead man’s head still rested. 

Tugging at the drawstring, the velvet was soft in Cicero’s hands as he was given the courtesy of discovering the treasure kept inside as his hands weren’t drenched in darkening blood. He reached a hand inside and pulled out a long silver chain, a gigantic sapphire dangling at the end of it. 

“By Sithis! It’s...stunning.” Gwenn said with a gasp, reaching out to touch it but hesitated, fearful of smudging dried blood on the graceful, sparkling necklace clutched in her lover's hand. He smiled a sweet grin and circled behind her, clasping the chain behind her neck as the gem fell against the hollow of her throat with a soft thud. 

“The contractor did say we could keep what we found…” Gwenn’s fingers hovered over the gem, still reluctant to lay her dirty fingers on such beauty. Cicero kissed her cheek and kept his cheeky grin. 

“It was meant to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha fuck
> 
> sorry friends, i have been swamped with life recently and have been really uninspired to write anything for this fic but i had a blip of inspiration at midnight on a saturday and wrote two chapters
> 
> ill try to be more...consistent but please dont count on it
> 
> this fic will be seen till the end though do not doubt that 
> 
> if you want to see something with more often uploads and you like fallout 3, check out my other fic florescence and sunshine


	29. Chapter 29

# Eela

After bathing and redressing into fresh, clean clothes, Eela joined Ulfric for supper, the first real meal she had since she left for High Hrothgar. Roasted chicken slathered in butter and thyme, cooked carrots that had been simmered and coated with honey and rosemary, rolls crusted with poppy seeds, and a salad of sweet grass, spinach and walnuts drizzled with oil and vinegar. Ulfric recounted the events of the weeks past since she had left, informing her of Imperial camps ransacked, the new crop of thieves popping up and the new traders coming in and out of the city. He told her of the adventures of her men, the gossip of the townsfolk and the political state of the country, that the Thalmor seemed to be watching for now, that he hoped they stayed that way but he was skeptical and ready for a change any moment. He finished his news as the servants were clearing away the chicken and carrots, bringing in desert of sweet rolls, fruits and sweet ale. 

“I’m sure not even the stories of thieving scoundrels and the rumor of a mad man in our city could compare to what you’ve faced. Tell me, how is Arngeir and the other old men?” Ulfric smiled softly, taking a sip of his pale ale. The taste of sugar frosting and honeyed dough turned sour and bitter in Eela’s mouth as dread coated her tongue. She had forgotten all about her journey to the Throat of the World, her dealing with Delphine, the resurrection of a dragon in front of her eyes and those words that black winged monstrosity had spoken to her. She reluctantly swallowed what was in her mouth before taking a deep breath. 

“The Greybeards are lovely men, helpful and humble in every way. They made me realize this is a gift I have been blessed with but I don’t want it.” She spat, suddenly vexed. Ulfric raised an eyebrow at her, his face falling into his characteristic frown. 

“Why not? What happened?” He questioned, leaning forwarding and resting his hand on top of hers. 

“I went to go get the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller and instead I found a note from an innkeeper who thought me a fraud and a Thalmor spy. She dragged me all the way to Kynesgrove to slay a dragon. The black one was there, the one who burned down Helgen…” She went quiet for a moment, angry hot tears slid down her face, her breath hitched as she continued 

“It resurrected a buried dragon, put flesh, blood and scales on ancient bones just by speaking words. I killed the dragon and it called me Dovahkiin right before it turned to ash and I took it’s soul.” She went quiet again and Ulfric stood from his seat and crossed over to her, kneeling down in front of her. Eela looked up at him with tears cascading down her pale cheeks, lip quivering as she cried. 

“The lady said she’s part of the Blades and that I need to infiltrate the Thalmor Embassy to find something. I don’t want to but she’s the only one who has any clue about these dragons.” Eela flung herself out of her chair and into Ulfric’s arms. She sobbed into his shoulders, his arms wrapped around her. 

“My fighting days are done, I won the war, I just want to have a new family.” After that she just cried, cried until nothing else would come and she was left sniffling against his chest. He pulled away and put one hand under her chin. 

“You are Eela Harik of Windhelm, you’re my Eela, my Ice Veins. You have seen such terrible things but you have prevailed. You helped win my war, your war is just starting.”

They slept that night arm in arm, tangled in each others comfort. They both woke was the sun was creeping up the frosted windows, bringing forth a misty morning. Ulfric was the first one to crawl out of bed, Eela followed not long after as they both readied for their day. She dawned riding pants, fur boots, a green tunic and a brown fur cloak. Ulfric dressed in his trousers, doublet and cloak before helping Eela braid her hair, a comfortable quiet between them as servants went in and out, taking dirty clothes, replacing bed sheets and bringing forth their meal. Once they were both ready for their day, they sat and broke their fast together over plates of cheese, warm bread and fruit spreads. It wasn’t long before they servants had cleared away the plates and Ulfric was walking down the hall with her. They stopped once they broke forth into the Great Hall, standing in front of the giant iron doors that led outside. He smiled proudly at her and set his hands on her shoulders. 

“You’ll do great, my love. Just remember, don’t burn down all of the Embassy.” He chuckled, a soft grin cracking across Eela’s lips. She nodded softly before throwing herself into his arms. 

“I’m gonna miss you” She mumbled into his chest then she broke away, looking back up at him. 

“I’m gonna miss you too, my Ice Veins.” He leaned forward and kissed her head after which they both saluted each other and Eela pushed through the doors into the cold morning. 

It took her 4 days to travel all the way to Solitude, mainly because she stopped for a day in Dawnstar to meet up with her friend Gwenn, even meeting the new leader of the Thieves Guild, a Dunmer named Nixie she had met once or twice. 

Solitude was in better shape that Eela had left it. More than a month ago when she marched her troops home, she had her back to a burning, crumbled Solitude but now it was back together. Blue banners hung on the walls and Stormcloak guards walked the streets, the things she had set ablaze and torn apart were clean and repaired. She slipped into the Winking Skeever and found a Bosmer man by the name of Malborn who was to help her into the Thalmor Embassy. He was a bartender working for the upcoming party and he planned to smuggle in her supplies. They both made their way out of the city and to the stables where they met Delphine who handed an invitation and a blue fur trimmed dress she was to change into. After hiding in the wheat mill to switch out of her armor, she gave it over to Malborn along with a couple dozen arrows, her bow, her sword and her Talos amulet. She then donned the carriage nearby and watched as Solitude disappeared from sight. 

It was dusk when her carriage stopped in front of the Embassy. Snow was lightly dancing in the air as she approached the first guard. She already felt sick to her stomach as she forced a smile at the armored woman in front of her. If they even got a hint of her true self they’d kill her right there, burn her to a crisp in the snow. The guard waved her along and weak legs carried her up the steps to the front door. Her hand laid on the cold metal, trembling and she took a deep breath before pushing inside. 

The snow tangled in her hair and dusting her clothes melted as soon as she stepped into the light. It was warm and bright inside, a bard played the flute across the room and to her right was a bar where she spotted Malborn looking uneasy as he cleaned tankards. Almost instantly a Altmer with long wheat colored hair, dressed in ambassador clothes smiled at her and walked over. 

“Welcome, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elenwen, the Thalmor Ambassador to Skyrim. And you are?” She raised an eyebrow before looking her up and down. Eela gentled bowed her head, her hands clasping behind her back to keep them from shaking. 

“My name is Mariette, pleased to meet you.” Eela forced a smile, trying her hardest not to let her guard down. The woman in front of her nodded and relaxed. 

“Ah yes, I remember you from the guest list. Please, tell me more about yourself. What brings you to this...to Skyrim?” She questioned once more, crossing her arms over her chest. Eela was pressed quickly to lie but luckily Malborn interrupted, requesting to open an expensive wine to which Elenwen rolled her eyes and barked at him before trotting off to bother some other guests. Eela sighed a breath of relief before wandering over to the bar. 

“Thank god, you got in. Listen, distract the guards and I can open this door to let you in.” He gestured behind him before passing her a tankard of dark red wine. She nodded and wandered over to the rest of the guests. She spotted an already drunken Breton man, leaning against the wall simply observing the rest of the people. Eela tapped his shoulder and he turned to her and grinned. 

“Hey, you seem like someone interesting, what’s on your mind?” The man slurred, his grin widening and she smelled mead and brandy on his breath. She held out her tankard towards him and smiled herself. 

“I’ll give ya this if you can create a distraction.” She persuaded and he quickly took the tankard from her hands, nodding quickly to accept her deal. 

“Ah, the one generous soul amongst a gathering of pinch pennies and lick spittles.” He raved, sloppily gulping down the wine. He tossed the tankard to the side and stumbled to the middle of the room, calling over everyone. In a matter of seconds the party guests were gathered around to listen to him rant and rave. Eela quickly ducked behind the bar and Malborn ushered her into the kitchen and into a storage room with another door leading out of it. 

“Here, your stuff is in that chest and go through that door once you’re done. I gotta get back before anyone realizes I’m gone.” Malborn quickly turned and locked the door behind him. Eela quickly stripped of her party attire and into her armor, strapping her sword on her hip and her amulet around her neck before heading out. 

Every Thalmor guard she met quickly fell to her blade but she didn’t stop there. She broke everything in her sight, tables, chairs, shelves and bookcases. She smashed every bottle and burned every book before moving on to the next room. When she burst through to the outside courtyard it was dark, the moon and stars hidden beneath clouds that spit snow and ice from the heavens. She made quick work of the guards and rushed inside the next building. There she found a study with a chest she was told to have some of the information she needed. After picking the lock she found a letter, two books and a key to the interrogation chamber. She huddled in the corner between the wall and a bookcase to read. The letter talked of an informat kept in the dungeon who knew of the dragon awakenings but said that the Thalmor themselves had no involvement. One of the books had Delphine’s name and the other had Ulfric's. She quickly burned both and moved on, hoping to find the prisoner alive.

When she entered the dungeon, she heard talking of a torturer and a prisoner. Slowly, she snuck down the stairs and pulled out her bow, loading up an arrow and aiming for the guards head. As soon as her fingers let go the Altmer was dead on the ground. Eela found the prisoner to be an emaciated Breton chained to the wall. 

“Please, don’t hurt me, I’ve told you all I know..” He pleaded, weak and tired. Eela relaxed and slung her bown over her shoulders. 

“Calm down. I’m here to free you.” She informed him as she tore the key’s from the dead man’s belt and quickly unlocked his shackles. He fell to the ground and stood on unstable legs. 

“Thank you, by the Nine, thank you.” He sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. Eela nodded and looked around, placing a hand on her sword. 

“Do you know if they have any information stored down here?” She questioned to which he pointed to the other side of the room where an unlocked chest sat. A few quick strides took her over to the other end of the room where she threw open the chest only to find another book, blue leather just like the other two she had burned. Stowing it away in her knapsack, she heard the door above slam open and the clinking of heavy armor. 

“Alright! We’ve caught your little friend, come on out now!” A guard screamed from above as the other rushed down the stairs towards her. In the blink of an eye fighting started and over her head Malborn fought one guard while she sliced at the other. Her blade bit into the side of his neck to which he fell over and began to choke, blood pouring from his mouth and throat. Malborn then flew down the stairs, out of breath with his axe coated in crimson.

“Great, now the Thalmor will be hunting me for the rest of my life, I hope it was worth it.” Malborn exclaimed bitterly as he wiped off the blade of his axe. Eela rolled her eyes before looking to the prisoner who was busy looting the bodies. 

“You!” She shouted and he looked up at her, a sack of gold clutched in his hands, “What do they want with you?” She questioned and he wandered over.   
“They’re looking for some old guy named Esbern, they think he’s got something to do with the dragons. I’ve seen a guy in Riften that they seem to think is him.” He informed her, ripping the gold necklace off of the man with the gashed open neck. Eela nodded and he gestured to a door in the floor a few feet away, telling her that’s what they haul bodies out of and it was her best way to get out. She thanked him before lifting open the door and climbing down the ladder. 

When she was finally able to burst out into the world, the clouds had cleared, leaving the sky dark and filled with bright stars. The building behind her was in total chaos and she could hear shouts even from outside the Embassy walls. Sheathing her sword, she slid down the mountain side and sprinted down the cobblestone road, determined to make it to Solitude by sunrise.

# Nixie

Almost all of the cities in Skyrim were under the control of the Thieves Guild with more pickpockets and fence merchants lining the streets than ever before. The last two cities that needed more of a push towards thieving were Windhelm and Whiterun. Nixie had sent out Vex and Sapphire to complete a heist job and a bedlam job in the great Stone City while her and Brynjolf took on the rolling plains of the country’s trading capital. It was a day and a half ride to the hold, the sun beginning to set on the second day when the two of them trotted up to the stables atop their horses. Demounting, they strode up to the front gate, passing blue clad guards sporting carved shields with the Stormcloak bear. Nixie cared little for political wars but was glad that Skyrim could be called a free land. 

The streets were almost empty as they pushed through the great wooden doors into the city. A few children still chased each other in the streets and the guards who stood watch and their posts seemed bored, ready for the shift change so they could treat themselves to a warm meal and a cold mead at the Bannered Mare. Nixie and Brynjolf walked in unison as they marched up the streets from the Plains district up to the Wind district where most of the housing was held for the city residence. The house they were looking for sat to the left of the stairs leading to it and Brynjolf went to make quick work to the lock on the door while Nixie stood watch, her eyes drifting up to the blossoming Gildergreen which months ago had stood limp and barren. She recalled Gwenn telling her the story of how she had restored it, having had fought hagravens and witches to return the tree of Kynareth to it’s rightful state. Her admiration wasn’t long as Bryn quickly tugged on her sleeve to usher her inside the house. 

It was dusty inside, cold and dark as they crouched down and slide against the walls. The home belonged to the priest of Talos who stood from dawn til dusk in front of the statue, his preaching falling on deaf ears as those who lived in Whiterun had learned to drown him out. With the devoted man still at his post and the guards falling asleep at their watch, it was an easy job to break into his home and ransack his house. Nixie stuffed coins and jewelry into her pockets while Brynjolf searched for the gilded drinking horn they were supposed to steal. He found it on a shelf in the kitchen while she was plundering his bedroom, stuffing some soul gems into her pockets. She grinned when he showed her the gold horn that was glittering with jewels and gold. She kissed him on the cheek and lead him out of the torn apart house all the way to the Bannered Mare. 

They got heavily drunk on black-briar mead, which was only served in Whiterun thanks to her. The both of them loudly sang along to Ragnar the Red, nearly screaming the lyrics in their drunken stupor, laughing as they did so. It was their 6th tankard full of mead that Nixie got emotional. 

“Y’know, Bryn, when Mercer’s blade bit into me, the only thing I could think of was you.” She admittied through slurred speech and half lidded eyes as she gulped down the blackberry flavored mead. Bryn nodded slowly, his own eyes shut as he clutched the bar in an attempt to steady himself. 

“I was so pissed when he told me….punched him right in his stupid fuckin’ face when he said you died...I’m glad you killed him…” He told her, opening his eyes just enough to see an impish grin spread across her face. He stopped and raised an eyebrow, skeptical of her reaction. 

“What’s so damn funny, lass?” He questioned, some of his mead sloshing out of his tankard and onto the wooden floor. 

“You liked me.” She teased like a child would and his face went red hot. “You were in love with me.” She drew out the ‘o’ in love for way too long and Bryn pushed her shoulder. 

“You liked me too, you told me!” He shouted, his own grin cracking across his lips. Soon they were laughing like maniacs and not long after that they both seemed to blackout. 

The sun slashing through the inn’s window was bright and bold, it stung the blood red eyes of Nixie as she opened them, her mouth dry and her head pounding. As she sat up, she tried not to vomit, ducking her head in between her legs and taking shallow breaths. It took a solid few minutes for her to finally lift her head up and when she did so she realized her room was empty save for her and Brynjolf was gone. Quickly as she could in her hungover state, she dressed and grabbed her knapsack before stumbling down the stairs and back to the bar where she found Brynjolf. He swiveled around in his chair and patted her on the back. 

“Can’t handle your ale, eh?” He laughed, passing her a mug filled with ginger and lemon tea. She glared at him, running a hand through her short messy locks. 

“Shush, you’re too damn loud.” She complained, nodding her head thankfully at the barmaid who set a bowl of hot porridge and bread in front of her. It took her no time to scarf down the meal, leaving the bowl nearly spotless when she finished, sipping her tea softly as Brynjolf just chuckled at her. She rolled her eyes and immediately winced, regretting her decision. 

“What got you out of bed so damn early?” She questioned, finishing off her bread and turning to him. He held up a hand before digging into his pockets. Out of it he pulled a brown envelope wrapped with twine. He grinned and handed it to her to which she raised an eyebrow. 

“Open it.” He gestured to the gift and she eyed him suspiciously as her slender fingers unlooped the knot and began to unwrap the brown paper. She gasped and nearly dropped it when she saw what was inside. It was still warm to the touch, still hot from the forge, made of silver. What she held in her hand was a brand new necklace, the pendant was the Thieve’s Guild emblem, the sides sharp and gleaming. Nixie wasn’t an emotional person but she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes as she threw her arms around Brynjolf. 

“Oh Bryn, it’s lovely.” She cried into his shoulder, moved by such love, devotion and care. 

“Anything for you, lass.”


End file.
